


The Margarita Zone

by OtterHell



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: AU, Consensual Infidelity, Daddy Kink, Demon AU, Demon Joseph, Demon Sex, Demons, It's a fun time, M/M, Monsters, Occult AU, Rough Sex, Werewolves, Witch Mary, Witches, Xenophilia, also demon dick, demonphilia, in fact, it's pretty pwp, kind of, lite, more or less, not slow sexual burn, other supernatural stuff, slow emotional burn, something's screwy in the neighborhood, there's bad dragon dicks coming and you can't stop this, weird supernatural entities fucking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-02-02 06:37:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 72,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12721512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtterHell/pseuds/OtterHell
Summary: There's a new neighbor in town, and Joseph simply has to meet him.





	1. Meeting and Greeting

**Author's Note:**

> This account is run and managed by two people: Tea and Fresh.
> 
> We are RP partners, and we're using this platform to unload our (copious) number of RPs.  
> Mostly smut, tbh.
> 
> The POV changes frequently, given the nature of roleplay writing, and if there are any noticeable continuity gaps it's 100% because the rp was abandoned for a few days/weeks before getting picked up again.
> 
> None of these works have been edited, touched up, or polished.

They had a new neighbor. 

 

Joseph knew this, of course, because the 'For Sale' sign on the house just down the street had been unceremoniously knocked over the day before, and this afternoon, when he'd passed it on his brisk walk to the nearby coffee shop it was gone entirely, replaced instead by a moving truck in the parking lot and a surly-looking mover clearly upset that the new owner was not there yet. 

 

He'd seen a different, but equally-surly man on his way back with his soy chai latte, and had almost passed the house as he had intended to when  _ something  _ gave him pause. 

 

There, from across the street with the sun streaming light above them, Joseph caught the stranger's eye for the briefest of moments, caught a whiff of stale cologne and whisky. 

 

He broke eye contact only when he felt something painfully-hot and liquid running down his hand and soaking into his polo, soy chai latte staining the fabric in a wide, milky-brown patch. A gasp of confusion quickly transformed into a hiss of pain, and the cup - now crushed under a too-tight grip - was dropped unceremoniously on the ground. 

 

Joseph didn't even get the chance to pick it up, less concerned about the litter than he was about his own mortification, and only once he was behind the closed door of his own home did the reality of the situation begin to sink in. 

 

Besides the fact that he'd made a  _ fool  _ of himself in front of a new neighbor, he could feel something clawing up his throat, could feel the pricking under his skin, the way the hair at the nape of his neck stood on end and the way his skin felt too-hot despite the quickly-cooling chai soaked well into his shirt. 

 

"Your  _ eyes _ , dad." As always, Chris sounded bored, hunched over and frowning at nothing in particular. Joseph supposed he had nothing but age to blame for his oldest son's sour demeanor. His voice was cracking and he already had the first few whisps of hair on his chin, not to mention the two nubs on either side of his head, still small enough to hide under his hair. Being a teenager was hard, that was for sure. 

 

But it was also no reason to walk around shirt untucked and back crooked like a question mark. 

 

Joseph took a deep breath, tipping his head back against the door and waiting until the rush of adrenaline - of something  _ else  _ \- faded and left him feeling vaguely nauseous. A bit of ginger ale would do him some good, he thought, and finally straightened up, leveling his son with the best chastising look he could manage. 

 

It wasn't  _ much  _ of a look. 

 

Too soft, with the hint of a proud smile, because for all that Chris had problems - in school and out - he was still a good kid. One of the best. 

 

"Shouldn't you be at school?" 

 

"It's Saturday, dad. Thought you knew that." 

 

He did, in fact. Just that morning, Joseph had torn a page of his 'Day By Day Inspirations From The Bible' calendar, and as he did every morning, read the quote at their breakfast table, standing while Mary hadn't even the decency to bow her head. 

 

_ "And let the peace that comes from Christ rule in your hearts. For as members of one body you are called to live in peace. And always be thankful."  _

_ -Colossians 3:15 _

 

Just below that, the date: Saturday the twelfth. 

 

It had been a fitting quote, he thought, and had stared Mary down pointedly until she looked back at him and raised her mimosa in the mockery of a toast. 

 

It was her own fault for bringing him there - for bringing  _ them  _ there. Perhaps if she hadn't been so good at her craft, they wouldn't be four children deep and living in this barely-palatable limbo of polite conversation in front of the children and screaming matches behind closed doors. She had no one to blame but herself for the ties that tethered them to each other, and Joseph had yet to find a suitable surrogate - neither for his own needs, nor for the needs of his kids. 

 

But maybe - just maybe - that was about to change. 

 

"What're you planning on doing with your day, champ?" 

 

He felt a little bit more like himself, and couldn't even muster up the proper annoyance when Chris shrugged, and without any further conversation, turned heel and walked back out of the room. 

 

No matter. Joseph had things to do, and Chris was expressing himself the best way he knew how at this delicate stage of his life. Namely: not at all. 

 

"We'll play some catch later, if you're not busy!" Joseph called after him and finally pushed himself away from the door, disappearing into the master bedroom (two separate beds, as far away from each other as reasonably possible with a nightstand between them for good measure) to change and soak his shirt before the stain had time to set in. 

 

Two hours and a batch of fresh-baked cookies later finally found Joseph in front of his new neighbor's house, dressed in clean clothes and still smelling faintly like a bakery under a dab of cologne. 

 

He took a deep breath, brushed an invisible bit of dust from his shoulder, and smiled before he rang the doorbell, depressing the button for a brief moment before taking a polite step back. 

 

If Robert was being honest with himself, buying a two bedroom house in the suburbs had been a stupid, impulsive decision. He didn't need all the space. He didn't need a lawn and a backyard to tend to. He sure as  _ hell _ didn't need so many neighbors, especially not when the majority of him probably had kids. Not that Robert had anything against kids -- quite the contrary, really -- but he really didn't need the reminder of what he'd lost.

 

After all, it wasn't as though his daughter was likely to come visit him out here anytime soon. All the more reason that the second bedroom was a stupid goddamned decision, borne entirely of the vain hope that Val might come around sometime. Maybe if he looked like he had his life back in order again. Maybe if he stopped with the drinking for good, this time, Maybe--

 

Robert kicked down the ' _ sold' _ sign the moment he stepped out of his old pickup, partly out of spite for the neatly manicured lawn on which it stood, and mostly because it felt good kicking something. It certainly beat processing his emotions like a healthy adult, and for a moment Robert wondered whether or not there might be some merit to, say, taking up kickboxing, or something.

 

_ "Nah, _ " was the decision he ultimately settled on, figuring he wasn't anywhere near self-disciplined enough to stick to something like that. He would just have to deal with shit the tried and true way: A bottle of Jack, a sharp whittling knife, and good old Betsy. It was the best Robert could hope for, anyway, and if nothing else it would keep him motivated enough to get through the unpacking process until four o' clock hit and he could officially drink without feeling like an alcoholic. Not like that ever stopped him before.

 

Hey, speaking of  _ stopping _ ...

 

There was a blonde-haired man standing on the sidewalk in front of the house. He had stopped dead in his tracks for some reason or another, and Robert must have just happened to glance up at the same time the guy decided to peer at him, because for an instant heir eyes locked. There was something strange about that moment. It wasn't really the stare itself -- Robert was a self-proclaimed professional starer, more than apt at giving menacing leers and long, silent, unblinking glowers for minutes on end. But this was somehow different, perhaps because the stranger looked a little shaken, and also because Robert could have  _ sworn _ that when he blinked his eyes had gone entirely black. 

 

That, and the guy had just crushed his paper coffee cup in his hand.

 

Robert turned away and rubbed at his eyes with the back of his palm (the other presently holding onto Betsy's carrier) and tried to blink away the blurriness from his eyes. Right, he was probably sleep deprived. Twenty-seven hours of continuous driving tended to do that sort of thing -- making people see things that weren't there, like suburban white dads with black eyes crushing coffee cups in their hand like they're made from tissue paper. 

 

Considering this most recent development, Robert saw no issue in putting off his unpacking until he'd managed to get a solid nap in. He clearly needed it.

 

*

 

Robert came to disoriented and a little achey, having passed out on the living room sofa pretty well the second he'd flopped down onto the plush cushions. He could hear Betsy at the front door, barking and growling with all the terror the fifteen-pound Boston Terrier could muster. There was undoubtedly someone there, though Robert couldn't remember hearing the doorbell ring. Maybe that was what woke him up.

 

He grumbled as he pulled himself into a vaguely upright position, groggy and sore and perhaps unreasonably pissed off at whoever was at the door for interrupting his nap. It hadn't been all that great of a nap, but whatever, the principle was the same.

 

"Alright already, Betsy. I heard you the first time," Robert grumbled, but naturally she kept barking until he trudged all the way to the foyer and, after fussing with the lock a few tries, finally swung the door open.

 

Standing there was a familiar face, and Robert couldn't quite hide his initial surprise -- he figured he had imagined that whole weird encounter earlier, and wrote it off as some sleep deprivation fueled hallucination.

 

But, no, unless he was still sleeping, that same blonde-haired well-to-do looking guy from before was standing on his front step. He was wearing the kinds of clothes Robert imagined a guy who owned a yacht would wear: A pink polo shirt with a sweater draped around his shoulders, white Capri pants, and-- Wait, were those  _  cookies _ on that plate he was holding? Robert's nostrils flared. Yeah, definitely cookies. And they were chocolate chip, too.

 

_ Weird. _ Who the hell brought freshly-baked cookies to a stranger's door? There was no way this guy wasn't after something. Maybe he was trying to sell something, or--

 

Robert's dark eyes suddenly narrowed. He gave the stranger one quick, albeit dismissive look-over as he leered at him through the half-open doorway. Betsy continued barking and growling at his heels, no doubt sensing her master's unfriendliness. If there was one thing Robert hated more than door-to-door salesmen, it was those Watchtower bible-thumpers. This guy certainly looked the part, and Robert had no interest in giving him a chance to launch into his 'have you found Jesus today?' spiels.

 

"Sorry, you're too late," he said, not sounding at all sorry what with the deadpan drawl of his voice. "The Satanic church a few blocks down already sent one of their guys. Said something about hooking me up with free cable for a year if I just signed away my mortal soul, or something."

 

Robert gave the guy about a half-second for that all to sink in before he continued. "So, you know, I think I'll pass on Jesus today. And on cable, if you're with Time Warner."

 

With that, Robert swung the door shut with an air of finality.

 

In all his years welcoming new people to the neighborhood, Joseph had never -  _ never  _ \- had the door slammed in his face. Sure, he'd had the occasional individual confused as to why he was there (and honestly! It was as though manners had gone flying out the window in the past few decades, the way that people acted so shocked when he only wanted to say hello), and there had been the one time a gaunt-looking gentleman had asked  _ far  _ too many questions after seeing Christian and Christie playing out in the yard (Joseph had sent the twins down later in the day to help him unpack). 

 

A few weeks after, he'd picked up a delightfully-sturdy breadbox from the estate sale organized after the gentleman's uncanny disappearance. 

 

He'd even had the occasional smart-a**, who upon seeing him made some clever quip about Jehovah's Witnesses or Mormonism, despite that those were two  _ very  _ different things. 

 

But no one had ever just up and shut the door in his face before. 

 

Joseph was left briefly startled, nose-to-nose with the door paneling and mouth still open to offer up an  _ actual  _ explanation as to why he was there. Namely: to deliver a warm welcome and equally warm plate of double-chocolate-chunk cookies. The man on the other side of the door looked like he could use them, really. 

 

He steeled himself with a deep breath and ignored the dog still snuffling from inside the house, reaching up to ring the doorbell for a second time. His smile was still as painfully-genuine as it had been, and his posture relaxed to counter the defensive curl of the other man's shoulders. 

 

He and Chris would get along, Joseph thought absently. 

 

"Just a couple of months ago they were offering two years of free cable, you know," he cracked with a wink, taking in the sliver of dark hair and weary leer that peeked through the door. "Someone over there is  _ seriously  _ stiffing you if they want you to believe that your soul is only worth one year of Game of Thrones."

 

An angry growl was all the response he got, and for a moment, Joseph thought that it had come from the man himself. Then a square snout poked from between the man's ankles, bared teeth and hackles raised. Joseph glanced down, smile fading half a degree while he stared the dog down. It stared back, then, as though compelled by a force not its own, backed off, falling quiet and demure as it slipped back into the house and out of sight. 

 

Joseph blinked and his eyes were blue, locked back on the stranger's face. 

 

"I'm Joseph, your neighbor," he introduced after an awkward silence, gesturing back towards his neat home with a throwaway flick of his thumb. "I just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood, see if you needed any help unpacking." It was still awkward. Joseph exhaled sharply and broke eye contact to look at the untrimmed bushes lining the walkway up to the front door, then returned, determined to see the conversation through to its natural end. 

 

"I brought you some cookies, as well. I know how hard it can be moving in to a new place, and I just wanted to let you know that if you need anything at all, anyone here would be more than happy to help you. In fact - if you'd like to meet the neighborhood, I'm hosting a margarita mixer next weekend. It's a great way to meet new people." He held the platter out like a peace offering and waited, eyes wide and expression downright puppish while he waited on a verdict. 

 

Robert had to hand it to the guy -- he was persistent _.  _ Annoyingly persistent, if he really was here trying to sell something, but considering that Robert hadn't actually given him a chance to explain himself before slamming the door, he figured he could at least afford him that much. Besides, those cookies had smelled  _ damned  _ good.

 

So when the doorbell rang again, Robert let out an audible sigh, waited a half-second, then threw the door half-open again. Despite his unfriendly leering, the blonde guy on his doorstep looked awfully cheery, wearing an amicable smile and looking perfectly poised despite Robert's less-than-polite greeting.  _ Definitely _ had to be some kind of salesman, no human being had that kind of unerring patience. 

 

Still, Robert let him explain himself this time around. He expected a sales pitch; hell, maybe it was those freshly-baked cookies the guy was selling, not religion or cable. Robert might actually consider buying them if that was the case.

 

What he hadn't expected was to find out that this guy, Joseph, was his neighbor. Or that he'd baked that plate of cookies as some kind of house-warming. Or that he was the type of guy who hosted  _ margarita mixers _ .

 

Wait, no, scratch that -- Joseph looked like  _ exactly  _ that kind of guy. Robert crossed his arms and leaned up against the door frame, sizing Joseph up more intently this time, while Betsy, oddly quiet all of the sudden, padded back off into the living room. She only ever barked at salespeople, to be fair. She must have realized this guy wasn't here to pitch anything. Which -- alright, admittedly, Robert felt a  _ little _ bit guilty for slamming the door now that he knew this Joseph guy was just trying to welcome him to the neighborhood. As strangely overly friendly as the gesture was, it was still poor form to throw it back in the poor guy's face.

 

And besides, Joseph had handled it all with a surprising amount of grace. He'd even managed to slip in a Game of Thrones reference. The guy couldn't be all bad.

 

"Right," Robert said after a long, awkward pause, looking very nearly sheepish despite the slight furrow of his brow and the absence of any kind of smile on his lips. "...Sorry. Can't ever be too sure who's trying to sell me stuff these days."

 

He fell silent again, still staring Joseph down like he hadn't yet made sense of the man. His gaze darted occasionally to the proffered platter of cookies.

 

"...Are those gluten-free?"

ᐧ

At least the door was still propped open, and no one was swearing at him. Joseph could chalk that up to a win if nothing else, and when the stranger (handsome, if not for the bags under his eyes and the perpetual frown tugging the corners of his mouth downwards, as though he couldn't be bothered to fight gravity just a  _ little  _ bit) finally spoke, something like relief surged through Joseph's chest. 

 

He prided himself in making a good first impression. It was important that he establish himself as a leader among his community, least of all because he had a voice in many of said community's clubs and public enhancement programs. 

 

" _ Ah  _ -" He glanced down at the question, eyeing the cookies as though he might be able to turn them gluten-free by a stern look alone. "No. If that's a problem, I'd be happy to whip up a more appropriate housewarming present." His smile faltered just a little bit, but Joseph still kept at it. It was important to keep dietary requirements in mind, but there were so few people with celiac or other other gluten allergies that going for the regular, full-flour chocolatey goodness tended to be the safer bet. 

 

"My kids would be overjoyed, frankly, if I had to take this home, so you'd be doing them a favor." 

 

Honestly, Robert had only brought up gluten to see how this Joseph guy reacted. He didn't have any allergies -- at least none that he was aware of -- and he realized he was being a bit of an asshole by implying a nonexistent gluten allergy. But, hey, Robert's mother had always told him to be true to himself. So here he was, being a dick. Mama didn't raise no dishonest son.

 

Okay, that was a lie. Case in point, Robert supposed.

 

"Nah, I love gluten," he said, and if Joseph looked hard enough he might have been able to spot a glint of sly amusement in Robert's otherwise dour expression as he leaned forward and swiped one of the cookies from the plate. Leaning back against the door frame, Robert took a curious bite and relished in the fact that it was still oven-warm. And  _ damn _ , it was actually really good -- soft and gooey in the center, slightly crunchy at the edges, with just the right ratio of chocolate chips to dough. Robert let out a quiet hum of approval, making no secret of his verdict, then reached forward again to relieve the plate from Joseph's outstretched hand.

 

"Just wanted to make sure you weren't slinging wheat-free cookies," he elaborated. "I've been let down one too many times before." 

 

Robert paused awkwardly, then, holding the door open in one hand and the plate of warm cookies in the other. He was never any good at small talk -- he  _ hated _ small talk, actually, and ending conversations like this always felt like a chore. He could always shut the door in Joseph's face again, but even Robert figured that would be a little too rude, considering he'd just been handed a free batch of surprisingly delicious cookies. 

 

"So..." he started, staring at Joseph like he might be able to will him away with a pointed enough stare. Either Joseph was impervious or didn't catch the hint, so Robert tried again. "...Thanks. I'll bring you back your plate later."

 

What a curious sense of humor. Joseph didn't laugh, but the corner of his mouth curled into something resembling amusement, a touch of sharpness that flickered in and out of focus like a camera lens in front of a bright glare. 

 

"I'm glad you like them, and don't worry too much about the plate. Return it when you'd like. And don't forget about the mixer. I'd love to see you there." 

 

However, before the man had the chance to slam the door in his face once again (as Joseph was sure he was just  _ itching  _ to do), Joseph stuck his hand out. "I never did get your name, stranger." 

 

For a long moment, it seemed like he never would, like the door would just swing shut and Joseph would lose both his plate and a little bit of his pride, but the man crammed the last of the cookie in his mouth and dusted his fingers on his shirt, hesitating a moment before reaching to return the handshake. 

 

It felt like  _ fire _ . 

 

Joseph inhaled sharply, electricity racing up his spine and knocking the very air from his lungs, and by the time he realized that seconds had passed, the stranger had already let him go, saying something - his name, a parting? - before shutting the door once more in his face. 

 

Joseph was left standing on the front stoop, the space between his shoulder blades itching and eyes a violent, inky black until he remembered exactly where he was and willed them back to clear sky blue. He turned his heel and almost didn't catch the way the living room curtain flicked back into place, watching the window for a second too long before he left. 

 

Joseph was...  _ odd. _

 

That was the conclusion Robert had arrived at the moment he'd first seen the man on his doorstep, because really, who welcomed their neighbors with homemade cookies in this day and age? Then there were his mannerisms: Too polite and amicable despite how decidedly  _ impolite  _ and  _ inimical _ Robert had initially been with him. There was also the fact that he organized 'margarita mixers' like that was a perfectly normal thing to do. 

 

Also, Robert was pretty sure there was something seriously weird with Joseph's eyes, because twice now he could swear he'd caught a glimpse of inky black where the whites of Joseph's eyes were supposed to be. Robert chalked it up to sleep deprivation, but it just added to the overall strangeness that was his overly congenial neighbor.

 

A few other facts came to light leading up to the weekend that left Robert feeling all the more puzzled (and maybe just a little grudgingly intrigued) by the man who lived across from him. For one, he was apparently the youth minister at the nearby church -- poor form on the Satanic soul-selling jibe, Robert realized in retrospect, but he couldn't help but find it a little funny that he'd picked up on Joseph's religiousness just by looking at the guy. He was also married and had four kids, which Robert felt was just teetering on the cusp of being a weirdly abundant number of children, and had him wondering if maybe Joseph was one of those religious types who didn't believe in condoms. Most interesting of all, though, was the guy's wife. Mary was her name, though Robert hadn't even known that much (much less that Mary was  _ married _ ) when he'd first met her at the dive bar, and had gotten about two minutes into conversation over whiskey when she'd slipped a hand under the bar counter and given his thigh a pointed squeeze.

 

_ 'Is that a knife in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?' _

 

_ 'That's definitely a knife.' _

 

And somehow -- though hell if Robert remembered how -- the conversation had derailed from weird and unexpected flirting to a perfectly tame discussion about knives, neighborhood gossip, and eventually Mary's husband, Joseph.

 

Robert wasn't going to deny that being hit on by his Christian neighbor's wine-loving wife wasn't incredibly awkward, but for all that Mary had her issues, she had a surprisingly dark sense of humor and made an excellent drinking buddy. He couldn't quite figure out how she and Joseph got together, but hey, he wasn't one to pry. Maybe there was more to Joseph than the perfectly well-to-do youth minister facade of his would suggest. The more nights Robert spent getting wasted with Mary (who thankfully refrained from groping him again, though the same couldn't be said for some of the other guys she met at the bar), the more he wondered just what Joseph was  _ really _ like.

 

Saturday rolled around. Robert was decidedly against going to Joseph's 'margarita mixer', mostly on the principle of being a strict drinker of shots, but he had also somehow convinced himself that today would be a good day to return Joseph's plate. He'd eaten all the cookies days ago, so if Robert was being honest with himself he'd been holding onto the plate somewhat intentionally. But,  _ whatever _ , it was as good an excuse as any to show up at Joseph's early Saturday evening, well before any of his guests had made their appearance.

 

It wasn't until Robert found himself standing on Joseph's front step, plate in hand and finger pressing the doorbell, that he began having second thoughts. This was going to be awkward, wasn't it? He should have picked a different day. He should have delivered the damn plate to Mary. Hell, maybe if he was lucky, she'd be the one to open the door, not--

 

_ " _ Hey, Joseph," Robert greeted woodenly when the door swung open to reveal none other than Joseph himself, because of course. Not sure what else to say, Robert held out his so-called reason for standing here, and said, just a bit gruffly: "Here's your plate."

 

A week passed, and Joseph saw neither hide nor hair of his elusive new neighbor. 

 

The same, however, could not be said for his wife. 

 

Sure, he knew of her  _ proclivities _ . Two days couldn't go by without her slipping off to some dive bar in the middle of the night and coming home just before the kids woke up. Sometimes she smelled like wine, sometimes like sex, and sometimes like  _ both _ , though it came as some surprise that the first night she returned smelling of familiar whisky and not-so-stale cologne, there wasn't an accompanying odor of  _ certain  _ bodily fluids to go along with it. They fought about it, as they fought about everything else, with hissed insults and harsh words behind locked doors while the sun just started to peek out over the horizon. 

 

Mary wanted  _ out _ . 

 

A marriage with a man like Joseph was no marriage at all. She'd wanted something  _ normal _ , once upon a time. One poor line - one wrong word - had bound her to the  _ creature _ , and by the time she had figured out how to get rid of him, she'd been too far pregnant to even consider termination. Joseph had retained his ties to her through their children (the second, third, and fourth of which had been further poor choices on her part, though she couldn't help that she loved them anyway) and with the mess that the divorce would be, it was almost easier to go fuck around under the cover of night before returning to her 'perfect' family and her 'perfect' life when the sun came up. 

 

Still, after their fight about Robert (a rarity; Joseph didn't usually  _ care  _ about who she slept with, as long as she was home before Crish started crying for attention), Mary couldn't help but wonder if her husband had set his sights on someone  _ new _ . 

 

It happened, sometimes. Never with any lasting luck; most men were weak by nature, and Mary wouldn't dare to get her hopes up that this one would be any different, but if Robert was enough to get Joseph off her ass long enough, then she could maybe count it as a victory. So, she took an interest. Robert was clever, and he frequented the same watering holes as she did. He wasn't a total bore to talk to, and he knew when to stop talking and let Mary scope out her catch for the night. Those reasons - as well as her husband's seeming fixation on the man - were good enough to cultivate some sort of relationship, and she might've mentioned the margarita mixer enough times that, when Saturday rolled around and she saw Robert through the window of her study strolling up the street with a plate under his arm, it came as no surprise that he stopped in front of their door. 

 

Joseph answered it, dressed in another one of his garishly bright shirts (like a caricature of a Ken doll, though at least he had those good looks and the right  _ equipment  _ to fall back on), and Mary shut the door to the study with a flick of her wrist, drowning out his enthusiastic greeting with a roll of her eyes and another sip of wine. 

 

"I'm so glad you could make it!" Joseph was as earnest as ever, taking the offered plate and ushering Robert into the room before the man could think to turn around. "Welcome, to the Margarita Zone. You're the first one here tonight, but that's all the same. Everyone else should be coming in shortly and frankly, I'm glad you showed up before everyone else. It'll give me a chance to give you the tour. Come on; the party's out back." 

 

Robert wasn't sure how -- it happened so fast he hardly had a chance to blink, let alone respond -- but suddenly he was being escorted through the front door and down the hall of Joseph's Ikea-perfect house. There had obviously been some kind of misunderstanding. He was only here to drop off the plate, not to join in on this 'Margarita Zone' (what the hell name was that, anyway?), and he definitely had no interest in  _ mingling.  _

 

_ " _ Uh--" Robert tried, but he couldn't seem to distract Joseph from his grand tour-giving of the main floor of his house -- which was nice, admittedly, in a very model show home-y kind of way. Nothing here really looked lived in, just a little too spotless and perfectly maintained. Robert wouldn't have been surprised if the bowl of fruit on the kitchen table was all plastic. It was yet another thing to add to the growing list of reasons why Joseph was weird in a difficult to place kind of way.  _ Nobody _ was this perfect. Just like nobody decided to give an official name to their apparently-regular margarita mixer nights.

 

Speaking of which, maybe Robert had misheard him -- maybe he'd really stepped into the  _ Twilight _ Zone. It would certainly help explain a few things, like those two nearly identical-looking kids Robert was sure he'd seen standing side by side at the end of one of the hallways, and who had just as suddenly disappeared the second he'd blinked. He didn't have sleep deprivation to blame this time around, but he figured it only made sense that Joseph's kids were just as strange as he was.

 

"Hey," Robert made a second attempt at interjecting when Joseph had finished showing him around the first floor and had somehow corralled him out onto the back deck. He had a nice backyard, too.  _ Of course he did. _

 

"I'm not actually sticking around for this, uh--" Robert paused, not the least bit inclined to have the words 'Margarita Zone' leave his lips, and so instead ended his sentence with a terse, "-- _ shindig. _ I had... plans."

 

Yeah,  _ plans  _ involving a handle of Jack Daniel's and Netflix, but Joseph didn't need to know that.

 

"I understand." 

 

Robert did not look like the type of man who  _ ever  _ had 'plans', but Joseph smiled amicably-enough and after a moment, gestured to the wide spread of snack foods and beverages - alcoholic and otherwise - on one of the tables. 

 

"Just - just stick around a minute. I promise to make it  _ worth your while _ ." Whether or not he intended to inject his statement with a thick layer of innuendo remained a mystery, as Joseph left Robert to stand awkwardly on the patio while he mixed up a quick drink off to the side, picking from an impressive selection of tequilas organized by height and proof. They even had two frozen margarita makers churning away off to the side - one labeled 'lime' while the other, a hot pink to rival Joseph's shirt, proudly announced itself as 'strawberry'. 

 

"You look like a man who can take a bit of  _ heat _ , Robert." When he returned, it was with two glasses, each of them rimmed in salt and paprika and each containing an identical pepper floating among the ice cubes and drink mix. Joseph winked and handed Robert his glass, holding his own up in a toast. "Have you had the chance to meet any of our other neighbors? I'm sure you've at least spoken to Mat. He runs the best coffee shop in town,  _ and  _ he's a musician. I think I might hire him to play for Chris' birthday, if the boy figures out what it is he wants to do." With a heavy, shoulder-dropping sigh, Joseph took a sip of his margarita, running his tongue along the rim to catch the salt and spice. "Teenagers, you know? I don't know what I'm going to do when Christie and Christian get to be that age. It's hard enough to wrangle one thirteen year old at a time." 

 

A margarita was not intended to be taken like a shot. Especially a margarita that measured somewhere around twenty thousand Scoville Units, but Joseph knocked half back like it was nothing, reaching up to wipe a bit of salt from his chin after lowering the glass. 

 

"Go on, try it. It's a new recipe." 

 

Robert hated small talk; there was something to be said (or rather,  _ un _ said) about silences, and he found he appreciated those more than anything. A good, long silence could speak volumes. There was no need to clutter it with needless conversation when there was nothing important to say.

 

It was part of the reason he didn't like mingling in big social gatherings, or meeting new people. Rare was it that two strangers had anything to discuss that was of any real importance, but silences were often treated like awkward, unwanted things that needed to be avoided at all costs. Case in point: Joseph was talking about his children. Robert hadn't asked. He also hadn't asked about anyone else in the neighborhood, mainly because he wasn't all that interested in  _ knowing _ anyone else. 

 

He  _ had  _ met Mat before, though, simply out of necessity of needing a quick coffee one morning. He seemed an alright guy -- he had a pretty good taste in music, at least, and had even offered to lend Robert a couple of his old records. Maybe he'd take Mat up on that offer sometime, but for now Robert was content to spend his days at home unpacking and his evenings at the bar nursing a glass of whiskey.

 

Whatever Joseph had just handed him certainly wasn't whiskey, but Robert wasn't really given a chance to turn down whatever it was, and at least it didn't look like either of the two garishly bright concoctions mixing away in the kitchen. Besides, Joseph's promise was just a little intriguing -- partly because it almost sounded  _ suggestive _ , though Robert was sure he'd either imagined that or Joseph hadn't intended it to be. Likewise, he was too curious not to at least take a sip of the drink in his hand, if only because Joseph had just downed it like a champ. Maybe he and Mary had more in common than Robert had initially thought...

 

"Not really a mixed drink kind of guy," Robert confessed, giving the glass one last curious look before he tried swigging some of it back in much the same way Joseph had moments ago. At first all he tasted was the salt and paprika rim, then a hint of lime and tequila, and then--  _ Wow. _ Okay, maybe he'd underestimated just how heavy on the spice and booze Joseph made these drinks of his. Robert coughed a little as he swallowed and had to stop mid-swig, mouth burning from a mix of alcohol and heat. Christ, how much Tabasco sauce did Joseph dump in these things? Robert liked spicy foods well enough, but even this was a bit more than he usually handled.

 

"That's--" he licked his lips and immediately regretted it -- they throbbed and stung from the lingering spice on his tongue. Suddenly, those colorful mixed drinks didn't seem half-bad. " _ \--Intense _ . What did you just give me?"

 

"Spicy mandarin margarita," Joseph explained, twisting his own glass in his hand. "Maybe sip it, next time?" He hadn't  _ intended  _ for Robert to follow along blindly, but from the information that he'd managed to pull from behind Mary's teeth (and even  _ when  _ she was on his side, she still made things next-to-impossible), he'd gathered that the man beside him rose to challenges that didn't even exist half the time. 

 

"Made with  _ reposado  _ tequila, Serrano pepper, and mandarin juice. It's good." Not  _ Joseph's  _ personal favorite, but he wouldn't complain about anything that contained tequila. 

 

"But if it's not to your taste, don't be afraid to pour it out and sample anything else you'd like. There's a lot here, too, so even if you don't get through everything, I throw a little party like this at least once a month." It was a good excuse to get drunk and show off a little, if only to keep up pretenses. There wasn't a single person in town that didn't  _ suspect  _ the failure of the Christiansen marriage. Small towns whispered, and it took a lot of effort to keep Mary's whoring out of the public eye. She wasn't exactly  _ subtle  _ whenever she went out to tango with every John, Dick, or Harry who gave her the time of day. 

 

Coming together once every few weeks for a party where they played nice and giggled while both drinking enough to drown a small horse seemed to tide the rumor mill over until the next soiree, and anyway - Joseph  _ liked  _ organizing these little get-togethers. 

 

He downed the rest of his drink just as the doorbell rang to announce the first of their guests, then set the glass down on an empty tray, flashing Robert a blinding grin even as he gestured and made his way towards the door. 

 

"Looks like the party's coming. Make yourself comfortable. I'll be right back." 

 

Robert never did end up pouring the rest of his margarita out. He'd never been one to waste decent alcohol, after all, even when it left his mouth burning from the heat of the hot peppers. Once he had downed the rest of his drink he decided to pour himself another, if only to douse some of lingering burn. It was some fruity concoction -- not the garish red strawberry or green lime slush still spinning in the mixers, but far sweeter than Robert generally liked his drinks to be. Still, it didn't taste half-bad, especially when he added another few splashes of tequila. It was a good thing Joseph had decided to leave all the bottles out; it gave his guests the option of stiffening their drinks if they felt so inclined.

 

Or, in Robert's case, it enabled him to quickly move from gulping back tequila-heavy margaritas to throwing back straight tequila.

 

It didn't take long to get to that point. One margarita to wash away the first one was followed by another when Joseph reentered the yard with a thickset man (Brian, as Robert later discovered) and pushed them to shake hands. Robert couldn't quite find an out to the conversation when Brian started chatting with him about the two-floor cedar deck he'd just finished building last weekend, though honestly, there was a part of him that was genuinely interested. He'd always wanted to build something. He was handy enough with trucks and motorcycles, but it wasn't quite the same. Anyway, he was stuck engaging -- or listening in blank-faced silence, mostly -- as Brian babbled on, and so it was only natural he pour himself another drink. And then another. 

 

More guests from the neighborhood showed up. Robert found himself grudgingly dragged into conversations with them, some of which he simply listened to in a somewhat dour silence, and some of which he actually actively participated in. The booze at least kept him somewhat more talkative than usual, and by the time dinner rolled around and Joseph started manning the grill, Robert had migrated entirely to tequila shots.

 

Mary joined him at one point, briefly. The two of them shared a couple shots in the corner by the perfectly-trimmed hedges while they watched the other guests mingle and Mary shared some scathing remarks and bits of gossip. Robert listened on in quiet amusement.

 

At some point, Mary headed back inside. Robert was left to mingle again, but it wasn't long before he grew tired of conversation, and parked himself down at the drinks table. He had enough tact to not drink straight from the bottle, but Robert may as well have for how swiftly he went through it. No one seemed to notice, anyway. It wasn't like Robert was all that rowdy of a drunk. He kept to himself once it really kicked in, partly because he was aware he would be slurring his words, and also because he was too tired to do any more socializing. 

 

...And also too tired to stay awake, as it turned out.

 

Robert wasn't sure when he'd nodded off -- it couldn't have been  _ that _ long ago, though the backyard looked almost empty -- but when he awoke it was with a jolt. Someone was nudging his shoulder, and when he blinked his eyes open and sat up straighter in his chair from where he'd been burying his face in the crook of his elbow, he noticed Joseph standing beside him.

 

" _ Shit, _ sorry," Robert grumbled, voice rushed and words slurring as he gracelessly moved to his feet. "I-- uh, haven't slept much this week. All those boxes to unpack." And late night bar-hopping. And cryptid hunting. "I'll head out now."

 

He gave a brief, thoughtful pause as he collected his leather jacket from the back of his chair and slung it over his shoulders. "...Thanks for the tequila and burgers."

 

As with all the others, this particular mixer was a rousing success. 

 

Mary came and went and Joseph paid little attention to her except to steal a kiss (perfunctory and uncomfortable for the both of them) when she passed him close enough that it would have been a faux pas  _ not  _ to. She'd always been a frigid b*tch, though, so he thought nothing of the way she swiped her thumb over her bottom lip when they broke the kiss. It did nothing to fix her smudged lipstick and was likely just to spite him. 

 

It worked, usually, but this time Joseph was drunk enough to not give a single f*ck, sipping on a mix of the lime and strawberry concoctions that left his fingers sticky and his tongue tasting sweet while he talked to Craig about the most recent of his workout routines. 

 

As the evening wore on, he migrated between people, laughing about something or other with Brian by the neatly-clipped rose bushes and pausing to ask Hugo how he wanted his vegan burger cooked. Like a proper host, he treated every person to several minutes of personal attention if not a full conversation so that by the time he made it to the grill everyone had been spoken to at least once. 

 

The burgers were grilled to perfection and doled out accordingly, leaving plenty for leftovers to take home and for the kids when they made a brief appearance just to collect dinner and some virgin 'margaritas'. 

 

Christie and Christian were inseparable as always, bounding up to him to collect their food and offer one of the many 'creepy twin quotes' Joseph was pretty sure Chris was teaching them. They never failed to make him laugh, though, and with Chris' recent obsession with The Shining (Lord only knew how he managed to get his hands on copies of both the book and movie), they were having a field day pitching their voices to a neutral monotone and inviting classmates to come 'play with them, forever'. 

 

Chris ambled up on his own time and piled his plate with more food than a boy his size should ever be able to reasonably eat, then proceeded to say nothing as he made his disappearance back inside, half a hot dog already stuffed in his mouth. 

 

"Good kids," Brian had said with a clap to Joseph's back before promptly launching into a story about his own, which Joseph couldn't escape from while still on the grill. 

 

The rest of the evening passed in much the same manner. More talking, more drinking, more food. A dessert platter came just as the sun cast its last rays over the horizon, and after slices of tarts or a cookie or two, people finally began to filter out of the yard and to their own homes. 

 

All except one. 

 

In the ensuing silence, Joseph found Robert dozing on the couch, tucked awkwardly into the corner of the wicker loveseat like if he tried hard enough he could will it to be comfortable. 

 

Joseph let him sleep a few minutes more, basking in the quiet of twilight while he moved around the yard and collected the food that had to go back inside. He even packed a few of the leftovers - along with a still-sealed bottle of Hornitos (he'd seen just how much Robert had packed away throughout the evening) - before bagging everything up and returning to where the other man still lightly snored. 

 

"It's fine." He hadn't expected such a quick response, especially for a man who clearly couldn't stay up on his feet. Robert positively  _ swayed _ , his words slurred and his gaze unfocused. Joseph caught his arm before he could make a tumble and offered him a grin. "And you're welcome. I hope we can see you at the next one, too? Now, come on. Let's get you home." 

 

It wouldn't be the first time Robert had over-imbibed and managed himself home alone, and in the past he'd walked a lot farther than just across the street. That being the case, he was fully prepared to stumble out of Joseph's room unaided, figuring with the streetlights he'd be able to navigate his way without any issues. 

 

But Robert's unsteadiness hadn't gone unnoticed, it seemed, and as he turned too-sharply on his heels and nearly proceeded to stumble sideways, he was surprised to feel Joseph catch his arm. He had a particularly strong grip, not to mention speedy reflexes, to have stopped Robert mid-fall like that -- or maybe it just seemed that way because Robert was plastered and barely able to stand upright. It was another thing to add to the list of reasons why Joseph was a little  _ odd,  _ though, regardless of whether or not Robert was just imagining this like he had with Joseph's color-changing eyes.

 

Actually, here was another one to add to the list of weirdness: Joseph didn't sound the least bit perturbed that his newest neighbor had drank an entire bottle of his tequila and passed out on his deck. Most people would find that at least a little irksome. Joseph didn't seem the least bit bothered.

 

Also, he was still wearing that sweater tied around his shoulders, even though it was cold out.

 

_ What a weird guy. _ Kind of a handsome one, too, in that magazine-perfect kind of way. Joseph was too perfect, actually. How'd he ever manage to get that close and smooth a shave? Was he wearing cologne? And -- hell -- for a guy who wouldn't even wear a sweater when it was chilly out, he ran awfully hot. At least, Joseph felt particularly warm when he hoisted Robert's arm over his shoulders and left Robert no choice but to lean up against his side.This was kind of weird, too.

 

Not that Robert was actually complaining -- he liked weird. 

 

And blondes.

 

Robert tried to look ahead when Joseph began guiding him through the backyard gate, but his eyes kept darting back to Joseph, studying his profile with a considering frown.

 

"Are you a Fed?" he blurted, and when Joseph looked baffled by the question-cum-accusation, Robert elaborated. "You know, a deep cover agent. A spy. A sleeper. Something. You're too--" Perfect. "-- _ Stepford Husband.  _ You even human, bud?"

 

Robert was light, Joseph thought as he hauled the man's arm around his shoulder, bracing him with a free hand wrapped around his solid waist. With what seemed to be a steady diet of eighty-proof alcohol, though, he couldn't be too surprised about the discovery. 

 

Above them, a light came on, second floor curtains parted to reveal Mary's silhouette standing over them. She was watching them proceed across the yard, and when Robert stumbled over his own two feet, Joseph paused to watch her right back, staring down her shadow-cloaked face until she retreated. These things took  _ time _ , and he wanted to be done with her as much as she with him, but if she was going to hover then the least she could do was help. 

 

When they started moving again, it was only to take a handful of steps to the gate, forced to pause when Robert blurted his question and subsequently seemed to forget how to multitask, stumbling again so that Joseph was forced to tighten his grip. There was a moment of silence, Joseph's furrowed brow and confused ' _ huh _ ' fading once Robert offered more in the way of an explanation. 

 

"I'm not with law enforcement," he said, and couldn't help but laugh despite the strain of a grown man putting basically of his weight against his side. "I'm alive, aren't I? Walking, talking. Come on, I'm really not any different from you." They made it to the gate without any further interruptions and Joseph swung it open, walking Robert across the front lawn and to the street, plastic bag full of food and liquor crinkling in his free hand. 

 

"Different priorities, maybe. I like keeping the house, and my position in the church lends me the flexibility I like so that I'm usually available to be with my kids." He also, clearly, liked small-talk way more than Robert did, keeping up a steady stream of one-sided conversation all the way to Robert's front porch, then, when Robert fumbled with the keys and managed to unlock his door, inside as well. 

 

The dog kept mostly to itself this time, though she was quick to sniff around her owner's feet when Joseph deposited him on the couch and then disappeared into the kitchen. The leftover were tucked into the fridge (which, as expected, had  _ plenty  _ of room), and a glass of water brought back out and passed to Robert. 

 

"You really should change before you fall asleep." There were still packing boxes littered across the living room, some pulled open while other were still taped shut, the corners caved in where they'd either gotten kicked around or damaged in transit. Joseph took it all in impassively, then clapped his hands and gave Robert another once-over, feeling awkward and out-of-place now that his primary goal for the night had been completed. 

 

"Thanks for coming, again. Feel free to swing by whenever. Our doors are always open to you, Robert." 

 

"That's exactly something a Fed would say," Robert mumbled in response when Joseph, unsurprisingly, denied any affiliation with law enforcement. Maybe that was the truth, but Robert still refused to believe he was just a normal guy. Undercover extraterrestrial, maybe? Android? That last one sounded like something Mary might be into -- a mail-order robot husband. Hell, Robert could almost understand the appeal.

 

If he was tempted to blurt anymore drunken questions, however, he was never given the opportunity. Joseph had a knack for taking a conversation and running with it, blasting Robert with more small talk that he had no choice but to listen to when he quite literally could not walk away. He trudged and stumbled alongside Joseph in brooding silence, suddenly very much craving a cigarette.

 

At least the walk was short enough. Robert slumped onto the couch the moment Joseph released his grip, shucking his leather jacket over the back of the sofa. He began to do the same with his red long-sleeve shirt, sluggishly rolling it up his chest to reveal a pane of dark olive skin and an impressive thatch of near-black hair. After decades of heavy drinking, he had a bit of a soft stomach, but it certainly wasn't half-bad for a guy nearly in his fifties

 

Joseph didn't seem to mind, anyway, if the surreptitious look Robert was sure he'd caught him making was anything to go by. He'd reappeared from the kitchen sans plastic bag and, incredulously,  _ thanking _ Robert again for attending his Twilight Zone booze party. Or whatever he'd called it. 

 

Robert threw him a strange look caught somewhere between a glower and an appraisal. For a long moment he said nothing, and when it seemed as though he might continue to say nothing until Joseph caught the hint and left, Robert finally spoke.

 

"So... You and Mary," Sober Robert would probably not have brought this particular topic up for fear of stepping into  _ feelings _ territory, but Drunk Robert was intrigued. "You two in some kind of open relationship, or something?"

 

Mary hadn't ever really spelled it out for him, but Robert knew for a fact that Joseph wasn't oblivious to her weekday activities.

 

If Mary had ordered herself a husband off of Amazon, she wouldn't of needed to drink herself into a stupor and fall into bed with the first man that gave her a lick of attention whenever she went out. It wasn't Joseph's fault that they weren't particularly compatible. Not that there was  _ never  _ a time that he'd liked her; he'd always appreciated her power, and her ability to doggedly pursue whatever she wanted without a thought as to how it would affect those around her, but they'd clashed from the first moment he'd found himself summoned to her home.

 

It was just... a compatibility issue, and no amount of children had been able to solve it. 

 

Joseph was still caught up in his own brooding memories (and the barely-suppressed desire to  _ tidy  _ the space around him) when Robert shrugged out of his jacket and shucked his shirt. 

 

He was  _ hairy _ , and that alone might've been enough to short out Joseph's entire thought process, were it not for the fact that Robert was also obscenely handsome. Joseph couldn't remember the last time he'd done anything, with anyone (not true; it hadn't been  _ that  _ long ago, but it seemed so distant now), that even a sliver of a hirsute chest had him feeling a little too warm. Surely, he was blushing, and the slight buzz of too much tequila certainly didn't help, either. 

 

However, Robert brought up Mary and that was as good as a dunk in an ice bath, especially considering the topic of the conversation. 

 

Joseph scoffed and thought about saying nothing at all. 

 

"No." 

 

So much for that, but an answer begged a follow-up explanation, which Joseph couldn't offer without outing the  _ delicate  _ nature of his actual relationship with his wife. 

 

"She does what she wants and I clean up her messes." All he did was sweep them under the rug, really, and eventually the pile of dirt and broken bones would be too big to hide, but as long as he kept on with margarita mixers and church-sponsored events, then people were willing to look the other way. 

 

Joseph was definitely blushing.

 

The chance that he was blushing over Robert's shirtlessness was probably slim-to-none, but Robert had thrown down bets on slimmer chances before, and he wasn't about to stop now. He probably wouldn't have even broached the topic of marriage at all if he hadn't spend a few nights getting wasted with Mary -- he had  _ some _ class, after all, at least insofar as he wasn't about to fuck a drinking buddy's husband without double-checking that he wasn't crossing any lines.

 

If only Joseph could give him a straighter answer, though; the line was still pretty blurry, as far as Robert was concerned. 

 

Oh, well, there were ways of clearing that up, and drunk as he still was, Robert had no hang-ups about getting right to the point.

 

"So," he said, voice even more of a low, smoky rumble than usual. "You never make any messes, huh?"

 

Robert leaned forward, and under the pretense of taking the glass of water Joseph had left him on the coffee table, made a point of brushing his hand against the side of his leg. "Doesn't seem fair letting her have all the fun."

 

Robert made a temptation of himself, and while Joseph was neither blind nor deaf to the blatant come-ons, he set his jaw and tried to ignore the heat crawling up his spine. It started from the point of contact, where Robert's nearly-accidental brush of fingers lingered just a little bit too long along the neat crease of Joseph's pantleg, then flared up and through his gut, settling hot and heavy like a stone. 

 

"What kind of - what'd you call me? -  _ Stepford Husband _ would I be if I made messes?" he countered, chancing a glance at the bob of Robert's adam's apple when he took to draining the whole glass of water in one go. It would be so easy; Robert was clearly coming on to him, and all Joseph would have to do was step a little closer, straddle his thighs and put his hands on that soft stomach and dig his claws into the meat of his back until Robert came screaming bloody murder and Joseph left him with a few  _ reminders  _ of what he'd done and who it was with. 

 

Instead, he sighed. Like with any hunt, this had to be taken slowly, and jumping into bed with his only potential ticked out of his marriage just simply  _ wasn't  _ prudent. 

 

"Let me come help you finish unpacking. Tomorrow, maybe? You've been living here a week already and this place still looks like a Container Store." 

 

Just because Robert was a betting man didn't mean he always walked away with the jackpot, and honestly, he wasn't altogether surprised that Joseph didn't respond to his come-on. Whether it was a matter of disinterest or obliviousness, Robert wasn't entirely sure, but he wasn't one to push when they didn't pick up on what he was putting down. Honestly, he was...  _ slightly _ disappointed. Joseph was good-looking and perfect in a way that Robert wouldn't mind messing him up a little. He had a knack for that, after all.

 

Robert downed the the rest of his water and set it back down, this time careful not to brush past Joseph in the process. When he leaned back against the sofa again, it was with one arm thrown over the back and with somewhat less intensely curious look on his face as he eyed Joseph, considering. He could have -- and probably  _ should have _ \-- finished unpacking within the week, but morning hangovers precluded any real productivity, so the process was slow-going. Truth be told, he  _ could _ use a second pair of hands...

 

Sober Robert probably wouldn't have agreed to this, but with the amount of tequila he'd thrown back tonight, he didn't throw much caution to the wind over how  _ weird _ it might be letting some near-stranger root through his possessions.

 

"Sure. Whatever," Robert shrugged, scratching idly at his beard (he should probably shave) and finally sinking sideways onto the sofa cushions. He closed both eyes, then cracked one open a moment later upon noticing that Joseph was still standing there. Right.

 

"Thanks for--  _ you know, _ " Robert gestured vaguely. He mostly meant the tequila, but he was pretty sure he'd already thanked Joseph for that. It felt right to say something, though, if only in the interest of getting Joseph to leave. "So... yeah. I'm going to sleep now. See you."

 

"I'll come around noon, bring some brunch," Joseph said, and that seemed to be that. 

 

He didn't feel  _ great  _ leaving Robert slung over the arm of a nasty-looking couch, but suggesting the man drag himself to bed might've sounded a little bit too much like an invitation for decidedly non-sleeping activities. So Joseph left him and let himself out, flipping the lights off and leaving Robert's keys on an end table near the door. 

 

Mary stayed home that night, and while that usually spelled a fight, she was uncharacteristically quiet, locking herself in her study while Joseph cleaned up from the party. She'd had the decency to put the kids to bed, at least (and Joseph would never take away from her the fact that she wasn't a bad mother), so all that remained was the patio. Joseph picked through the grass meticulously, collecting plastic cups and utensils and half-eaten food, then spent an hour washing dishes and cleaning the grill so that by the time he finally showered and dropped into bed, it was nearly midnight. Still, Mary did not join him, if she even slept at all, and in the morning he found her bed empty and as made as it had been the night before. 

 

He should've taken Robert up on his offer. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What better way to make a new friend than by awkwardly rifling through his porn collection?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This account is run and managed by two people: Tea and Fresh.
> 
> We are RP partners, and we're using this platform to unload our (copious) number of RPs.  
> Mostly smut, tbh.
> 
> The POV changes frequently, given the nature of roleplay writing, and if there are any noticeable continuity gaps it's 100% because the rp was abandoned for a few days/weeks before getting picked up again.
> 
> None of these works have been edited, touched up, or polished.

Sunday's meant Service, so it was bright and early when Joseph, along with his children, arrived at church, sat in a neat row towards the front while the day's sermon droned on. Mary opted out of joining them (she didn't always skip out, but the other patrons knew her to be  _ very  _ sickly, and she tended to be bedridden more often than not), and while it was as beautiful of a sermon as ever, even Joseph couldn't keep his attention on what was being said. 

 

He stared just beyond the pastor's shoulder for most of the morning, then exchanged pleasantries during the potluck with Crish swaddled on his arm while Christie and Christian played with the other young kids and Chris, as always, stuffed his face alone. 

 

They were home by noon, and with Mary still there (he could feel her, wherever she was, and it was never a pleasant sensation), Joseph was content to leave Crish in her capable-enough hands. He changed, and half-past the hour stood in front of Robert's door with tinfoil-wrapped breakfast burritos and fresh-squeezed orange juice in two travel cups. 

 

Considering his habit of staying up half the night drinking and crashing just before the sun crept up over the horizon, Robert was decidedly  _ not _ a morning person. That, coupled with the fact that he was sporting a massive hangover courtesy of last night's tequila binge, meant that he was still curled up and miserably dozing on the couch well into the afternoon. He'd stumbled awake at some point earlier in the morning to refill on water and down a small handful of painkillers, but then he was back on the couch, stifling out the morning light with a pillow on his face while Betsy slept on his feet to keep them warm.

 

Robert had forgotten entirely about last night's agreement -- and, frankly, he wouldn't have agreed to it at all if he'd been sober enough to realize just how hungover he was going to be the next day. That being the case, when the doorbell woke him out of his snooze, Robert grumbled and held his pillow more tightly to his face with every intention of ignoring it.

 

The doorbell rung a second time, at which point Betsy had decided to respond with a few barks and growls, and Robert had no choice but the relent to waking up and answering the damn thing. He rolled off the couch, still shirtless and disheveled but not caring enough to do anything about it as he trudged toward the front door, fully prepared to throw whoever it was his best bloodshot, haggard-looking glare until they left.

 

Well, that was the plan until Robert opened the door and saw Joseph standing there looking his usual well-groomed and bright-eyed self.

 

Right. Unpacking. He'd agreed to that, for reasons unknown (or not so unknown -- alcohol was easily to blame).

 

"Hey," Robert said, feeling suddenly a little self-conscious about the fact that he was standing there in nothing but his boxers (his jeans had been kicked off at some point during the night) and hadn't actually had a chance to brush his teeth. Or shower. Or shave. Hell, he looked like a human disaster compared to Joseph. Maybe he should just shut the door on Joseph's face again. At least that way he could go back to sleeping off his hangover.

 

Unfortunately, Robert had a shred of decency and elected instead to throw the door open and leave Joseph to step inside. He agreed to this, after all. And besides, whatever Joseph had brought over smelled  _ delicious _ .

 

"You--- uh, want a coffee, or something?" he offered, mostly for the excuse to leave the room so he could clandestinely brush his teeth and freshen up on deodorant, but also because Robert could seriously use the caffeine. 

 

"Hey. I woke you?" It wasn't so much a question as a statement of fact: Robert looked like he was still fresh to the notion of being vertical, leaning heavily against the door and blinking away the last dredges of sleep from his bloodshot eyes. He was hungover, too, which came as little surprise when he'd spent the whole of the previous evening downing straight shots of tequila and conveniently forgetting to drink water. 

 

Still, it wasn't Joseph's place to judge, so he said nothing and bobbed his head graciously when Robert let him inside, stepping past the dog and into the now-familiar entrance of Robert's house. It didn't look any less sad in the light of afternoon, which streamed through the cracks in the curtains but left the place largely untouched otherwise, plunging it into a dusty gloom with an orange undertone. The same boxes were there, but now that Joseph could get a good look at the space, he noticed other, finer details. 

 

An overflowing cigarette tray sat on an end table, spilling its contents onto the aged wood. A poster was haphazardly tacked on the wall, depicting in stark, illustrated detail a massive creature in a desert likely somewhere half-way across the world. Underneath the artwork, in bold, movie-style print read "Mongolian Death Worm." Joseph wasn't sure if it was an advertisement or a warning, but there were a handful of other poster tubes piled on the floor nearby, so he could only assume they contained similar works. 

 

Further down the hall he thought he saw a glimpse of a bedroom door, maybe a bathroom, and to his left was the same kitchen he'd been in the night before, lights off and sun spots reflecting off the wall-mounted microwave. 

 

"Yeah. I brought orange juice and burritos. Eggs and sausage; I went light on the pepper, this time," he said when Robert finally broke the silence, shooting Robert's retreating back a grin. 

 

"I can make myself comfortable if you want to shower, too." In fact, it wouldn't hurt to familiarize himself at least a little bit with what he was going to spend his day doing. Joseph left breakfast on the coffee table in front of the couch, and while Robert ducked out to make himself decent (and he very pointedly  _ didn't  _ stare at the curve of Robert's ass through his boxers), Joseph gathered whatever dirty dishes he could find in the main room, bringing them back to the kitchen and loading up the sink. 

 

Robert caught that sly little dig about the pepper, but hey, that drink was  _ hot _ and clearly Joseph's tolerance was just well above average. Besides, he was glad for this morning's fare being on the milder side, what with his hangover and all. He'd be lucky to get through breakfast (or  _ brunch _ \-- wasn't that what Joseph had called it?) without feeling queasy, though frankly that was as much because of Robert's tequila binge as it was because he just didn't eat very often... or very well.

 

He gave only a grunt in response as he left the room, making a brief appearance in the kitchen to switch on the electric kettle and then heading off to get showered and properly dressed. Maybe Joseph coming over wasn't all bad. Robert probably wouldn't have bothered with eating or showering, otherwise.

 

It didn't take him long to clean up, at least. He didn't bother shaving, mostly out of laziness but also because his beard hadn't quite grown to the point of being a nuisance. His suitcase of clothes were about the only thing Robert had properly unpacked, and he managed to find a clean-enough smelling ensemble of jeans and a blue wife beater. His hair, still wet, was left uncombed beyond a cursory run-through with his fingers, but Robert did at least spend the time brush the taste of stale tequila from his mouth and spritzing on some deodorant before he made his way back into the living room. He felt surprisingly refreshed.

 

Alright, so maybe this showering-while-hungover thing felt better than Robert remembered. He'd have to try it again next time. 

 

...So like, tomorrow.

 

"Did you seriously just do my dishes?" Robert was leaning up against the entryway to the kitchen when he voiced the question, having already rolled back the foil covering his still-warm burrito and taking a tentative bite. It was good. Not too spicy. His stomach wasn't protesting, anyway. He took another bite as he watched Joseph put away the last of the plates, brow furrowed in befuddlement. This guy was really something else. "Uh, you know you didn't have to... do that... right?"

 

While the pipes gurgled and the water ran, Joseph took the time to wash all of the dirty dishes in Robert's sink. There weren't  _ too  _ many, and of the ones that were there, most of them were glasses, so there really wasn't a whole lot of food waste to scrape off. He even managed to wipe down the counter with a rag he found, wringing out the last of the dirty water from the dishtowel when Robert made his appearance. 

 

"I know." His kindness was off-putting, Joseph knew that too. "I figured if we were going to be unpacking all of your stuff in one afternoon, it might be easier to start with a clean slate, anyway." People always thought he had an ulterior motive, or that he was atoning for something. Maybe both of those cases were true, or maybe he was just a genuine person. Maybe he just liked putting others on the defensive with his good deeds. 

 

Whatever the case, he played the part of being a genuinely decent person convincingly -  _ suspiciously  _ \- well. 

 

"You should take the trash out, before we start, but  _ first  _ -" Joseph turned around, casting an appraising look Robert's way. The man cleaned up nice. Very,  _ very  _ nice, in fact, and if Joseph looked a little bit too long, well. At least Robert didn't seem to mind. 

 

"I'm starved. Are the burritos good?" 

 

'Clean slate'?  _ Right _ . That was why Robert had moved to the suburbs in the first place, and so far nothing had changed. It probably never would, if he was being honest with himself.

 

He chewed thoughtfully on his burrito, still watching Joseph with mild suspicion, like he couldn't entirely make sense of the fact that he'd just walked in on the guy cleaning his kitchen. So, what, did he  _ like _ cleaning up after people, or something? Was that what he meant when he said he took care of Mary's 'messes'?

 

Maybe there was more to it than that. Maybe not. Either way, at least Robert didn't have dishes to do.

 

"Mhm," he answered vaguely, both to the request to take out the trash and to Joseph's question. Again, small talk wasn't Robert's thing. "Wait."

 

His eyes narrowed, brain finally catching on to what Joseph had just said. " _ All _ my stuff? Look, I appreciate the help, but there's no way we're getting everything unpacked in one afternoon. You have any idea how many DVDs I own?"

 

Speaking of, Robert wasn't so sure he felt comfortable with the idea of Joseph knowing about his extensive collection, much let perusing through the titles. It wasn't all embarrassing, it was just... a lot. And it probably revealed more of his character than he liked sharing.

 

...Fuck, hadn't he labeled one of the boxes  _ RomComs _ ?

 

Robert chewed his burrito more furiously than he had been a moment ago, trying to mentally catalog if there were any other potentially embarrassing or revealing boxes that he would need to keep out of Joseph's sight. 

Cleaning up after people ( _ Mary _ , namely) was his specialty. He'd been doing it long enough: any time one of her lovers kept cropping up at inopportune moments and in places they shouldn't, or when any one of her many rivals (Joseph hated to think of them as  _ enemies _ , because that would lend more weight to Mary's petty squabbles than they deserved) sent an agent to try and bring her harm, it was Joseph's job to  _ take care _ of them by whatever means necessary. 

 

It wasn't pretty. Messes never were, but it kept him busy when things got slow and kept Mary alive. As unfortunate as it was, Joseph had a very vested interest in keeping her kicking to both their benefit, and she  _ had  _ chosen him, in the beginning. That still meant something. 

 

"Well if you're going to  _ start  _ the day off with negative thinking, then we're not going to get  _ anything  _ done, are we?" Maybe he was being a little too casual with a man he barely knew. Robert certainly looked like a guy who liked his privacy, but if he was so attached to it, then even drunk he might not of taken Joseph up on his invitation for this little pow-wow. "We'll see what it looks like in a few hours and then make a plan from there, yeah?" 

 

But first - brunch. Joseph peeled back the foil on one of the burritos and took a bite while he looked around the room again and took in the impressive collection of boxes, some of which were labelled but most of which were decidedly not. He had his work cut out for him, clearly, and after a swig of orange juice to clear his mouth, turned back to Robert. 

 

"Do all the boxes in the living room contain living room-related stuff?" 

 

Although it looked like complete and total chaos in Robert's living room, it was  _ organized _ chaos. For the most part, anyway. He had at least made a point of putting boxes in their respective rooms, it just so happened that there was a lot of clutter in his living room. Mostly DVDs and records, posters, sound systems and speakers, and-- Well, just a lot of shit, the majority of which Robert had at one point stolen, swindled, or otherwise come upon by less-than-legal means.

 

He'd stopped a few years ago, after the crash, and he often thought that he might as well toss or burn it all in some poorly construed show of penitence, or something. A better man might have. 

 

Too bad Robert wasn't all that good of a person.

 

"Yeah, think so," he said, finishing off the last of his burrito and then guzzling back his OJ until he'd emptied the bottle. Four hours still felt like an optimistic time frame to be setting, but Robert wasn't going to argue it. He figured Joseph had other responsibilities to be getting back to, anyway, and it wasn't like he'd ever counted on getting all his unpacking done tonight, let alone this week. "You still want that coffee?"

 

Robert didn't wait for an answer, sweeping back into the kitchen to fetch two mugs (both mismatched, and both swiped from restaurants... just because), which he filled with boiled water from the kettle. He added a heaping scoop of instant coffee to each, then returned to the living room to set them down on the table.

 

It only occurred to Robert then that he didn't have any cream or sugar, and that  _ Stepford _ here probably didn't drink instant. Neither did Robert, frankly, but desperate times...

 

"It's shitty coffee," he remarked, before Joseph had a chance to reach for his mug. "I haven't unpacked my coffee maker, so it's instant. Hope you take yours black, but I'll drink it if you don't."

 

Again, Robert was surprised to feel a little jolt of self-consciousness right then; Joseph had brought over juice and homemade breakfast burritos and Robert had bitter-tasting instant coffee.

 

That probably said a lot about him.

 

Joseph took the coffee, and despite the warning, tried a sip. He regretted it immediately. Normally, he didn't take his coffee without at least a  _ little  _ sugar, if not the full gambit of flavored creamers and sweetened foam on top, but Robert hadn't been lying about this being  _ awful _ . 

 

Clearly, they needed to break the unpacking down by order of priority, with the kitchen being at the top of the list. 

 

"It's...  _ Yeah _ , I'm sorry." Joseph had nothing nice to say about it, and so he carefully set the mug back down where he'd picked it up from, noting that the table itself was full of water stains and that it wasn't likely any of the many boxes in the room even contained a single coaster. "I've probably been spoiled on Mat's stuff. Don't know where he gets his beans from, but there's not a single store in town that carries coffee half as good as his." 

 

He ran his tongue over his teeth and took another swig of orange juice, just to cleanse his palate. 

 

Then they tackled the boxes. 

 

It was slow, but steady. Robert had a surprising amount of knives on him (one pair of jeans, Joseph was sure, didn't need three different blades tucked in various pockets), but it proved handy when both of them could have one each to help crack through the packing tape. 

 

The company, too, wasn't unpleasant. A little tense at times - Robert still seemed perfectly content to simmer in his silence, and there was only so many things that Joseph could say before he ran out of thoughts and words - but as they settled into a groove, even that fell into place. Joseph insisted on sorting out the kitchen first: the toaster was still in its original packaging, and surely Robert had something besides plastic forks and knives to eat with. 

 

That took the better part of an hour, but as Joseph started breaking down the empty boxes, the space already felt - and looked - a little bit livelier. 

 

Robert turned the TV on when they made it back to the living room - one of those SyFy documentaries about mermaids or aliens or somesuch nonsense - and left it running as quiet background noise while they tore into boxes there, starting with two large Ikea-esque containers featuring classy-looking photos of large shelving units on the packaging. 

 

"We're gonna need a place to store all those DVDs, aren't we?" 

 

If not for his excessive chattiness, Joseph actually wasn't half-bad company. He came across as more easygoing than his perfectly trimmed hedges and youth minister day job might suggest, and Robert was torn if this added to his  _ perfectness  _ in a way that he found unpleasant or maybe-slightly charming. Whatever the case, he would still rather be out whittling in the back of his trunk at some ungodly hour, or sipping a glass of whiskey at the local dive bar. Putting together shelves wasn't exactly high on Robert's list of preferred activities, but unlike the rest of the afternoon's packing, it involved power tools.

 

He chewed thoughtfully on the filter of his cigarette -- which he hadn't lit, figuring he'd save Joseph the smell of tobacco, and also because Robert was more intent on sating his oral fixation than smoking right then. They'd been surprisingly productive so far today, it seemed only fair they keep up their streak.

 

"One sec," he mumbled, and disappeared from the living room into the garage. Robert was gone for all of a minute before he returned, a container of screws in one hand and a cordless drill in the other. He didn't have a whole lot of power tools or other such clutter in the garage, at least, and aside from his truck and old Harley it was mostly empty. "This shouldn't take long. You wanna start on the black one for me?"

 

Robert was pretty sure he'd tossed the instructions when he'd packed up, but hey, how hard was it to put a shelf together?

 

*

 

_ Kind of hard,  _ apparently.

 

It wasn't for lack of technical know-how on either his or Joseph's part, to be fair. At some point during the packing process, Robert must have misplaced a few of the hinges and mounting brackets, so they were left to improvise. There was also the distraction of the television to slow down his progress somewhat; the  _ ancient astronauts _ had started talking about Mothman, and Robert didn't have it in him to tune them out, too annoyed by their matter-of-fact ramblings not to get involved. He sat cross-legged in front of the coffee table, a beer in one hand (hair of dog worked wonderfully on tackling the last of his hangover) and fistful of DVDs in the other as he glowered at the television screen.

 

"Mothman is bullshit," he said, taking a sip of his drink and slotting the DVDs into the completed shelf that sat propped up against the wall. "It was just a giant crane that spooked a few locals out in Virginia. Of all the cryptids to make a documentary about..."

 

Robert scoffed, clearly dismayed, and set another couple DVDs on the shelf.

 

While Joseph didn't  _ usually  _ use power tools for their intended purpose, he found it easy enough to handle the cordless drill that Robert brought out, and things seemed like they were set to go pretty smoothly. This was, of course, until they hit their first snag, which was naturally followed by a second, and a third, and by the time the two shelves were upright and not-wobbly, even Joseph's endless well of patience was starting to run pretty dry. 

 

Still, they managed to make it work, and at the end of the first of what appeared to be a series of similarly-themed documentaries, they had two shelves standing against an empty wall, side-by-side and already filling with Robert's impressive collection of DVDs. 

 

"Are you suggesting that the rest of them aren't bull _ crap _ ?" Joseph asked when Robert finally strung together a sentence that consisted of more than directives or swears. A genuine interest, maybe. Or maybe he just watched a  _ whole  _ lot of SyFy. 

 

Joseph had moved on from orange juice to cheap beer, as well, accepting Robert's second attempt to offer him a drink with as much grace as he could manage. It still wasn't his preferred beverage, but it was leagues above the coffee (that Robert had somehow finished both cups of), and better than drinking water straight from the tap. 

 

He dropped down on the couch when it seemed as though the bulk of his own work was done for the moment, and while Robert was distracted with sorting the DVDs in his hand, plucked one at random from the open box near the couch. The woman on the front cover looked  _ charming _ , her skin stark white against a backdrop of green and the bright red of her shirt. She smiled like she had a secret, wide eyes trained on the camera and a constellation of clip art stars dancing behind her. 

 

NOMINATED FOR FIVE ACADEMY AWARDS the header proclaimed loudly, and the tagline, ' _ One person can change your life forever _ ,' had Joseph quirking a grin. 

 

" _ Amélie _ ," Joseph read aloud, flipping it to the back to skim through the summary. "Is it in French?" 

 

If Robert noticed the way Joseph pointedly avoided cursing, he didn't make mention of it. He did, however, file that tidbit of information away for later consideration and possible use.

 

"No,  _ most  _ of them are obviously made-up, but--" Robert cut himself off mid-sentence, catching sight of Joseph rifling through one of the DVD boxes out of the corner of his eye. His breath caught in his chest when he realized it was the one labeled  _ RomComs _ , and suddenly Robert was inching closer under the pretense of getting a better look at the DVD case Joseph had in his hands.

 

"Yeah, French with English subtitles," he said, all while clandestinely attempting to slide the incriminating box out of Joseph's reach. "It's... good." One of his favorites, but Robert wasn't going to admit to that much. "Bit strange and arthouse-y, if you like that kind of stuff."

 

Robert looked considering for a moment as he continued carefully pulling the box toward him.

 

"And it has about as many sex scenes as you'd expect from a French film. If you're into  _ that. _ "

 

He guessed not, judging by the fact that Joseph wouldn't even say  _ bullshit _ around another grown man. 

 

_ Most _ ? Joseph wanted to ask about that. Did Robert believe in ghosts? In the Loch Ness Monster? But he didn't get a chance to. The conversation flow would not allow it, and anyway, the DVD in his hands was of far more interest to him in that moment. 

 

He hadn't taken Robert for the type of man who liked romantic comedy movies, and that was exactly what the summary on the back of the box advertised  _ Amélie  _ as. In fact - a quick glance down to the box Robert was inching ever-closer to proved that this particular movie wasn't the  _ only  _ one in the collection. ' _ When Harry Met Sally _ ' sat at the very top, and ' _ (500) Days of Summer _ ' was right beside it, shifting slightly in its spot when Robert tugged the whole box closer and revealed the sharpied ' _ Romcoms _ ' scribbled across the side. 

 

"I don't watch too many movies, but it sounds charming," he said lightly and set the DVD back on top of the box. 

 

"I wouldn't be opposed to watching it." With four children, one would think that Robert realized that Joseph knew and had sex before, even if he didn't necessarily think it was a conversation to be had in polite company. Robert, clearly, didn't care about that sort of thing and Joseph snatched another DVD from the pile before the box could be completely shoved away from him. "I've seen this one." ' _ Sleepless in Seattle _ ' was a classic by all classic standards, and one of the movies played often enough on public television that he'd caught it multiple times while cooking dinner or going over budgets at the kitchen table. 

 

"It's good. What else you've got?" 

 

Robert had very nearly managed to drag the box away from Joseph's immediate vicinity, but apparently Joseph had noticed or Robert hadn't moved it fast enough, because a moment later he was swiping another title from the box. If he noticed the bit of Sharpie scribbled on one side, however, Joseph didn't mention it. 

 

" _ Lots, _ " Robert answered a bit gruffly, but his defensiveness wore off quickly enough when he realized Joseph wasn't about to comment on the whole  _ RomCom _ thing. He relaxed at this, then gestured with a tilt of his chin toward the half-emptied box at his side that had a somewhat more respectable assortment of action flicks and thrillers. "You wanna help me with this box?"

 

Hopefully that would take Joseph's mind of what he'd just looked at -- Robert didn't need the guy thinking he was some kind of soft, sensitive type. Which he wasn't, of course, he just had a keen appreciation for cinema.

 

Robert took another swig of beer and set back to work once Joseph moved over to join him.

 

"You like horror?" Robert couldn't help but ask, partly out of curiosity, but also because he thought youth minister Joseph might find it a little off-putting. Still, he handed Joseph a copy of  _ The Conjuring _ with a cocked eyebrow. "This one's pretty creepy. Oh, and I've got a bunch of old '80s classics in here. You ever watch  _ Nightmare on Elm Street _ ?"

 

_ Sleepless in Seattle  _ was set back where it came from as Joseph's attention was effectively shifted to the other box Robert was working his way through. He was in no place to judge, really, what kinds of movies and entertainment the other man liked. He'd been alive too long - had seen and participated in any number of questionable things - to really care. So it was with a casual shrug that Joseph took the offered DVD case, one pale brow hitching up his forehead at the sepia-toned photograph of a tree with an empty noose hanging from one of the thicker branches. 

 

"I take it  _ this  _ isn't a romantic comedy," he said and sank down to the floor on the other side of the box, flipping the case to the back to skim through the summary. 

 

After a few moments spent reading, he handed the case back and picked another one from the box, grimacing at the gritty image of a large man with a chainsaw in one hand. "Chris likes horror movies," was what he finally said and set the DVD back down, leaning against the box so that he could better watch Robert's organization method. 

 

"Games, too, though I have no idea how he manages to get his hands on them. We have pretty strict parental controls set on his computer." Though as much as Joseph moderated what media his kids could consume, he would never go out of his way to pry into their personal lives (well, not  _ always _ ). Sometimes there just wasn't enough time in the day. 

 

"He's been a  _ Shining  _ kick, recently. Only thing I can get him to talk about. Apparently there's a whole lot of conspiracy theories surrounding it, but I wish he'd stop teaching the twins quotes." 

 

Judging by his facial expressions, Joseph seemed far more of a romantic comedy guy than a horror guy. Robert had figured as much. He wasn't sure  _ why _ he had spared that little detail any thought, actually, since watching movies with Joseph wasn't on the agenda and probably never would be. But, well...

 

He listened in his usual silence as Joseph chatted about his kids. It was a common theme in their conversations (one-sided though the conversations might be), and one that Robert had so far declined to voice any commentary on. He tended to keep such personal details close to his chest, usually under the guise of keeping enigmatic, but mostly because they could be painful to discuss. 

 

"Yeah, some people say The Shining was Kubrick's coded apology for faking the moon landing," Robert said off-handily, sticking another few DVDs on the shelf. He loosely organized them by genre and title, but he figured there was no point in getting  _ too _ anal about what order they sat in on the shelf so long as everything was there. "They also think the Illuminati murdered him and covered it up as a heart attack."

 

He snorted in clear disbelief and paused from his sorting to finish off the last of his beer.

 

"But it sounds like your kid has good tastes in film." He threw Joseph another curious glance. "Maybe I should send you home with a few of my recommendations."

 

"That sounds ridiculous." People would make up anything for entertainment value, wouldn't they? Joseph scoffed and polished off the last of his own beer, setting the empty bottle on the coffee table with an audible click. 

 

"You do realize I'd have to screen everything you sent home with me, right?" Not that there was any  _ point _ , really. Joseph couldn't protect his son from all the horrors of the world - neither the ones he would witness, nor the ones he would participate in, when the time came. Offspring of women like Mary and men like Joseph were not destined for simple, pain-free lives. 

 

Already, Chris' interests pulled him towards the macabre, and all Joseph could hope and pray for was that his kid decided to spend his life chasing sin, rather than committing it. He'd make a good homicide detective, somewhere where a lot of homicide happened. 

 

"So if you're planning on loaning me any of  _ these  _ -" he pulled Hellraiser out of the box next with a snort at the cover image. It looked like a caricature of some horrific creature; the pins in its head and the hooks and chains in the background nearly comical, "- you might as well pop one in now." 

 

Well, so much for 'movie watching' probably never making it to the agenda. Joseph seemed sold on the idea, and frankly Robert wouldn't mind watching something more interesting than some bullshit one-hour documentary on Mothman while he finished putting away his DVD collection. There were still several other boxes left to unpack, including the one that hide his coffeemaker, but Robert didn't care if they got through them today or not. He had still been more productive today than he would have been had Joseph not showed up -- if he hadn't, no doubt Robert would have still been passed out on the sofa.

 

"Alright," Robert conceded, setting down his empty beer can beside Joseph's and rifling through the box until he found the DVD case he was after. With a grunt, he moved to his feet and padded over to the television to pop it into the DVD player. "Seeing as how  _ Hellraiser _ 's about a sexual deviant, I think we'll go with something a little more kid-friendly."

 

Well... maybe zombies weren't exactly kid-friendly, but whatever.

 

"Might be dating myself by saying I watched this when I was Chris's age, but... You ever see  _ The Evil Dead _ ? Real classic."

 

"You don't look  _ that  _ old." Then again, Joseph had no gauge for hold old the movie Robert fed into the DVD player was. 

 

"And I haven't." But Robert seemed excited, and with a collection of movies as impressive as he had, Joseph figured he had at least  _ some  _ idea of what was good and what wasn't. 

 

While Robert went through and got them ready for the movie, Joseph pulled himself up to his feet, lamenting briefly the fact that he'd even sat down on the floor in the first place. "I'm sure it'll be great, though." Inasmuch a movie with a title like that could be. He took the empty beer bottles to the kitchen trash, and after some deliberation, grabbed two more, bringing them back opened and still lightly foaming. 

 

When they settled in - Joseph now helping sort the DVDs by genre and title - it didn't take much longer than the opening credits for them to reach the bottom third of the box, where titles that gave Joseph  _ much  _ more pause than a few horror movies stared back at him. 

 

"Don't tell me you proudly display your pornography, as well." 

 

Not  _ that _ old, huh? What the hell was that supposed to mean? Robert shot Joseph one brief, withering glower once he'd hit play and made his way back to where he'd been sitting. Sure, he probably didn't do himself any favors with all the drinking and poor sleep -- those dark circles under Robert's eyes might very well be permanent, at this point. Joseph, on the other hand...

 

Well, judging by the age of his children, he was probably at least a few years younger. He looked pretty damn good for his age regardless, but Robert made no comment on the matter, opting instead to sink back down to the floor and return to shelving his DVDs.

 

As per usual, he kept quiet as he worked, content to leave any small-talk to Joseph and generally responding in no more than four or five words. That was, until they reached the bottom of box number three, and Robert -- having been more focused on the movie playing on-screen than the ones buried at the bottom of the box -- failed to notice what he'd started sliding onto the shelf after the last of the action films had been emptied out.

 

"What?" his attention suddenly shot to Joseph, then to the DVD in his hand. Yep, that was porn, alright. Definitely not the most hardcore or unusual of Robert's modest collection, but for a half-second he almost looked a little sheepish.  _ Almost. _

 

Just as quickly, he was leaping on the opportunity to see whether or not he could press a few of Joseph's buttons. Just how conservative was he, anyway? Did he shameturbate to porn when the wife wasn't around? 

 

"Oh, yeah. Usually put those out on my mantelpiece," he drawled, plucking another adult DVD from the box. This one, unlike the relatively standard-looking straight porn Joseph picked out, very obviously featured three men. "Here's a classic:  _ Double Dicked _ . They really nailed the cinematography in this one."

 

Robert had a way of speaking that made everything he said sound like the God-honest truth, and for a split second, Joseph almost believed that the man mounted and displayed his porn somewhere in an obvious, if not downright invasive, place. He realized quickly that Robert was exaggerating for effect and rolled his eyes, dropping the video he'd been holding moments prior back into the box and ready to close the book on this particular conversation entirely. 

 

Robert, however, seemed to have other plans. He fished a DVD out of the box and dangled it under Joseph's nose, the three men on the cover all staring the camera down with their mouths parted and their faces flushed. Joseph felt his own cheeks heat up at the vulgar display, turning a rather unfetching shade of red that started from the bridge of his nose and crawled slowly down to his neck. 

 

"Are you  _ always  _ this shameless?" he grumbled, voice rough and gaze darting away - somewhere into the middle distance where he didn't have to look either at Robert or at his porn. "Or are you taking special pains because of what you think I am?" Joseph was a youth pastor, and Robert wasn't the first person to try and shock him with crude imagery or inappropriate themes. At this point it was more surprising that Joseph  _ hadn't  _ seen that particular DVD cover.

 

Granted, had he not been caught  _ so  _ off-guard, Joseph might not of felt so shocked. He'd seen  _ far  _ worse (participated, once upon a time, in far more debaucherous), but he had an image to upkeep these days, and taking an active interest in gay porn did not fit the man he tried to make of himself. "I'm sure it was worth every penny you spent fishing it out of the bargain bin." 

 

It was  _ so  _ worth it to see Joseph's face start glowing red like a Christmas light. Robert figured he'd be able to fluster him, at the very least, but he hadn't counted on seeing him blush quite so brightly. He wondered if Joseph was more hot and bothered than simply bothered by the topic of gay porn. Interesting...

 

At least Joseph wasn't acting appalled, which frankly was part of the reason Robert was pushing his buttons -- to see what he was really like, to figure out just how straight-laced and conservative he was. The answer was still  _ fairly _ , but at least he didn't start rambling about how homosexuals were abominations in the eyes of God, or whatever bullshit some of those ultra-religious types sometimes spouted. That would have put an immediate end to their acquaintanceship, for reasons that went beyond just Robert's personal preferences.

 

"Yeah, you better get used to it," he said, and for just a moment there was a smirk pulling at one corner of Robert's mouth and a self-satisfied gleam in his eyes. The grin faded quickly enough, but there was still certain smugness about him as he tossed  _ Double Dicked _ back into the box and did the same with the other porn DVD he'd unintentionally set on the shelf. He was shameless, sure, but he wasn't  _ weird _ about it -- Robert had no intention of proudly displaying his porn for any guests to see. 

 

Not like he had many guests, but still.

 

"What makes you think I get my porn from the bargain bin?" Robert shot Joseph a look, as though offended by this accusation, and began packing up the box to set aside. "Full price, baby. It's worth it for the 4K. You ever watched porn in 4K? Or... anything in 4K?"

 

Joseph didn't even know what 4K  _ was _ , and the look he shot Robert in response to his question conveyed that pretty well, he was sure. Luckily for him, it seemed that Robert was done being antagonizing, for the moment, and as he stuffed his porn back into the box it came from and shifted it out of the way, Joseph could start feeling himself a little bit more normal; he wasn't blushing anymore, at least, and even the horrified screaming coming from the TV wasn't enough to phase him anymore. 

 

Violence was something he knew well - particularly in scripture - even if the violence they were watching was exceptionally gruesome and over-the-top. 

 

They moved on to a different box, picking through videos until that too was empty, and all that remained in the living room was a selection of trash and a box with a dog bed and a few toys. 

 

By the time even that was done, Joseph was feeling comfortably buzzed and a fair bit hungry; the hours had flown by and he hadn't heard much from the kids, though Christian had texted him twice asking if they could try baking something on their own. Both times, Joseph had said 'no,' because the twins in the kitchen without supervision always resulted in unmitigated disaster. The last time he'd allowed them free reign, he'd had to replace the flooring entirely. 

 

"I think we made good progress today." He'd sat through the whole rest of the movie, even, watching now as the end-credits rolled and sipping at the last of his beer.

 

If anything, having something moderately distracting playing on the TV made the entire unpacking progress go by a whole lot faster. This was helped, no doubt, by the fact that Robert wasn't working alone for once, but either way he was a mix of surprised and relieved when he took in the sight of his living room free of stacked boxes. It had been just shy of three hours since Joseph had swung by, which meant it was late into the afternoon by the time the credits to  _ The Evil Dead _ scrolled across the screen and Robert broke down the last of the cardboard. Betsy was curled up on the opposite end of the sofa, just across from Joseph -- she seemed wary of him, still, which was a little strange for her, but she hadn't barked once. Maybe she picked up on his strangeness as astutely as Robert had. Or maybe Joseph was just a cat person.

 

Robert cracked his neck and stretched out his back as he got up off the floor, grimacing at the residual ache in his shoulders. Ugh, getting old  _ sucked _ .

 

"Yeah, not bad," he agreed, voice pitched low and gravelly as it so often was. "You probably have to be getting back now, yeah? Think it's getting close to dinner."

 

Or, close to when normal suburban white families sat down to eat dinner. Robert hadn't followed a typical meal schedule in years.

 

It was time to be getting back, yes. "Thanks for having me over, Robert." He cut himself short before he could say that it'd been  _ fun _ , because unpacking was never an enjoyable process and he didn't want to be caught in an obvious lie. But it had been pleasant-enough. Robert proved himself to be amicable company, when he wasn't being lewd or vulgar (not that Joseph  _ minded _ , but popping a stiffy every time Robert rucked his shirt up over the hairy expanse of his chest was really in poor form) and Joseph wouldn't of been opposed to spending more time with the man. 

 

Still, Joseph had an obligation. 

 

They shook hands (the hair on the nape of Joseph's neck stood on end, but at least he kept his cool), and Joseph headed home. 

 

Joseph left without any fuss or further attempts at tidying, and Robert said little aside from a perfunctory 'goodbye' that accompanied their handshake. He could have thanked Joseph again, he supposed, but the word  _ thanks _ started to grow stale after a while, and Robert had always been more a man of action than words. More besides, he wanted Joseph out as quickly as possible -- he needed some time to decompress, to relax in a way that he couldn't when Joseph was around. Robert found him too chatty, too  _ strange _ in a way that continued to irk and intrigue him.

 

He collapsed onto the couch with Betsy soon after Joseph's departure, idly flipping channels and trying to ignore the nagging feeling that his house felt suddenly  _ emptier _ .

 

Must have been because the boxes were gone. 

 

Yeah, that was definitely it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone curious:
> 
> Fresh wrote for Joseph  
> Tea wrote for Robert


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robert gets drunk, Joseph gets drunk, and there is a run-in with the Old Abbey Creeper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cutting it short in kind of a weird place, but there's definitely some smashy-smashy in the next chapter e u e
> 
> \-------
> 
> This account is run and managed by two people: Tea and Fresh.
> 
> We are RP partners, and we're using this platform to unload our (copious) number of RPs.  
> Mostly smut, tbh.
> 
> The POV changes frequently, given the nature of roleplay writing, and if there are any noticeable continuity gaps it's 100% because the rp was abandoned for a few days/weeks before getting picked up again.
> 
> None of these works have been edited, touched up, or polished.

Joseph. -RS

Joseph wake up -RS

I see your bedroom light on so I know you aren't sleeping -RS

come outside -RS

 

It was late Monday night, well over twenty-four hours since Robert had found himself in his living room unpacking boxes with his weird Christian neighbor. He hadn't seen much of Joseph since, passing out on the couch Sunday night and then spending most of Monday inside finishing up the last of his unpacking. He'd cleaned off a good half a bottle of tequila in celebration once he'd collapsed the last of the cardboard boxes, and now Robert was standing on the sidewalk in front of Joseph's well-kept front lawn and pristine house, texting away at his phone and grunting with annoyance whenever his thumbs awkwardly missed a letter.

 

He wasn't entirely sure how Joseph's number had found its way into his contacts, but he suspected Mary must have done it the last time they were out drinking together. In fact, Robert should probably have been texting  _ her _ , right then, but he'd come up with the brilliant excuse of taking Joseph out as casual way of saying 'thank you' for yesterday, and... well, Drunk Robert had run with it.

 

don't make me find a rock -RS

 

Joseph came home to the sound of the fire alarm, beeping quietly but insistently while the oven billowed smoke and the twins refused to show their faces. All the same, really; they wouldn't of been able to help him with the clean-up, anyway, and they'd gone and disappeared into a different plane if existence just to avoid the obvious trouble they were in. 

 

No matter. Joseph spent the better part of his evening cleaning, and dinner had to be ordered in. 

 

He fought with Mary that as always that night: about the twins, about Robert, about the mess that had been left behind. She didn't care, and by midnight stormed out of the house, leaving him to turn in alone. 

 

She didn't turn up at all on Monday, and after the kids were sent to school and Crish handed over to the nanny, Joseph buried himself in the study, working until the front door slammed open and his wife returned. 

 

They never talked, after a big fight, and that day was no different. Joseph didn't see her except for once, when Chris got home. Then she left again, and he was alone with his thoughts and his kids. 

 

It wasn't uncommon, but it was lonelier this time around.

 

Until his phone buzzed persistently by his bedside. 

 

It wasn't often Joseph got messages so late in the evening. His co-workers kept regular hours, like him, and neither he nor Mary had extended family that might get in contact with them so late. 

 

The number seemed unfamiliar, too, but the initials and a quick glance out the window told him everything he needed to know. 

 

Why are you here? JC

Are you drunk? JC

 

Still, he was already headed downstairs, padding quietly through the house so as not to wake his kids. 

 

"Robert, are you out of your mind?" It was cold outside and Robert wasn't wearing much besides a thin, red t-shirt and a manic-looking grin. 

 

"Is everything okay?" 

 

Robert didn't really  _ smile _ . Sometimes he would smirk. Rarer still, he would chuckle. But he didn't  _ smile _ , or at least would never admit to it, and so it was really less of a grin and more of a smug simper that he gave Joseph when at last the man appeared from his home, wearing a soft-looking housecoat and a bemused expression. Robert dropped the rock he'd been holding and stuffed his phone into the back pocket of his jeans and lifted his hand in a casual two-fingered salute, as though he hadn't just been about to toss a aforementioned stone at Joseph's window.

 

He hadn't answered Joseph's last text, but it was very much obvious by the general uptick in his expressiveness and the faint flush of his face that Robert had been drinking. 

 

"Yeah. I knew you'd be up," he said, watching as Joseph crossed his freshly-cut lawn to join him on the sidewalk. "You free tonight?"

 

"It's midnight." That didn't answer the question, though, and Robert looked like he expected a ' _ yes _ ' and nothing less. 

 

"How much have you had to drink?" More than he should have, by the looks of it, though Joseph didn't comment further on the fact, standing with his arms crossed over his chest and a dour frown tugging down the corners of his mouth. 

 

Seconds passed and none of his questions got answered, leaving Joseph to deflate bit by bit until he was left shaking his head with a put-upon sigh. "Yes, I'm free." The kids could handle themselves until morning, and even if Crish began to fuss, Mary wouldn't be gone multiple nights in a row. She had her own things to attend to at home. 

 

"What in the good Lord's name do you even want to do in the middle of the night?" 

 

Robert hadn't actually expected it to be this easy to coax Joseph out with him. Hell, he'd even  _ expected  _ to be turned down -- it was just the response a youth minister would give to being propositioned into leaving his house in the middle of the night on a weekday. Surely he knew Robert was up to no good. Surely such a perfect, spitting image of Christian wholesomeness have no interest in temptation, and return to (un)loving wife and gaggle of kids.

 

But Joseph didn't, and Robert was almost a little annoyed at him for going ahead and being so intriguing. There was something not quite right about him, something Robert couldn't put his thumb on, and it was beginning to drive him a little crazy.

 

He would figure it out, eventually. Tonight might very well be as much about cracking Joseph's dark secret as it was his way of saying thanks.

 

"First, I'm gonna buy you a drink," Robert said, smirking again now in a way that suggested he was very much pleased with himself for getting Joseph on board with his plan. "And then I'm taking you-- Somewhere. I'll keep it a surprise. You in?"

 

He didn't wait for an answer, already tossing the keys to his truck at Joseph, figuring the man would either catch them or get hit in the chest.

 

"C'mon, I'll let you drive."

 

If asked, Joseph might insist that the only reason he was going along with any of this was because Robert was clearly drunk, and clearly needed someone to watch over him. Otherwise who knew what might happen? He might get hurt, or wander off and drink himself into a further stupor.

 

Agreeing was simply altruistic, and had nothing to do with Joseph's own itching desire to get away from his home situation and see what this odd, handsome stranger actually wanted from him. 

 

Taking Robert up on his absurd little offer was  _ only _ logical. 

 

He caught the keys before they could smack him in the chest, reflexes blindingly fast, and only thought that maybe he should have let them hit him when Robert leveled him with an odd look. 

 

Joseph dangled the keys in his fingers and pretended he didn't notice. 

 

"At least let me get decent." He was still in house slippers and a loose house jacket: Hardly conducive to driving his drunk neighbor around town. 

 

In the meantime, he shooed Robert towards his grungy-looking truck, then disappeared back inside to change his shoes and check on his kids one last time. 

 

All sleeping, all accounted for. 

 

He grabbed an extra sweater on his way out, and after sliding into the driver's seat, thrust it across the dash and into Robert's lap. 

 

"Put it on before you freeze to death." 

 

Either Robert had imagined it -- which wouldn't be all that surprisingly, given how much tequila he'd imbibed -- or Joseph had inhumanly fast reflexes. He blinked and stared a moment, interest and suspicion piqued, but Joseph didn't appear to notice. That, or he was making like he didn't notice. Robert shrugged it off but added it to the growing list of reasons as to why his neighbor was undeniably strange.

 

He wandered off to his red pickup truck with Joseph's prompting, and while he waited in his driveway for Joseph to make himself 'decent' and rejoin him, Robert fished out a lighter and spliff from his pants pocket. He managed to smoke about half before he spotted Joseph beelining it across the street, this time sans housecoat and slippers. Robert snuffed out his joint and hopped into the passenger seat, pleased (if a little surprised) at how easily Joseph was going along with everything. Maybe he wasn't so well-to-do, after all.

 

A sweater landed in his lap. Robert couldn't help but snort. Alright, still at least  _ little _ well-to-do.

 

"Bar first, surprise after. Head to the old pub on Main," Robert directed while Joseph started up the truck. Considering it was a good few decades old, it eventually chugged to life with a heavy  _ glug glug  _ of the engine. Robert surreptitiously watched Joseph as they backed out of the driveway, tugging on the sweater as he did, and trying not to notice how pleasant it smelled. "What were you doing up so late, anyway? Figured you for an early to bed, early to rise kind of guy."

 

Robert put up surprisingly little fuss about tugging on a powder blue sweater, but Joseph didn't bring that up, content to smile smugly to himself while he coaxed the truck to life and then pulled out of the parking lot. 

 

Didn't hurt that powder blue looked  _ good _ on Robert, either. 

 

"You do realize if you get me drunk we're not leaving the bar," he pointed out once they were on the road, sighing and only a little uncomfortable with the notion that he and his clothes were going to smell like stale cigarettes and liquor. Maybe it would make Mary care more if he stumbled home at the crack of dawn reeking of a dive bar. Maybe she wouldn't even notice. 

 

Regardless, he didn't try to deviate from the directions given to him. He'd signed up for this little adventure the moment he humored Robert's texts instead of shutting the lights off in his room and closing the blinds against any further peeping. 

 

"What are  _ you _ doing up so late?" he countered and took a right out of the cul-de-sac, heading up towards Main with far less hesitance than a youth pastor going to a bar should have. He had tricks to make it so he was less likely to be noticed, and anyone who brought up his presence would be swiftly taken care of before the rumors could start spreading. 

 

Joseph completely sidestepped the question, which left Robert all the more curious as to what had kept him up so late. Post-midnight porn binge after the wife and kids went to bed, perhaps? Probably not. Robert definitely would have noticed if Joseph had answered the door with a hard-on. 

 

Did that mental image  _ really _ have to stick? 

 

"Finished unpacking a couple hours ago. I figured it called for a celebration," Robert replied, voice gruff and words just a little slurred. As they turned onto the main road that would take them into town, he fished his half-smoked spliff out of his pants pocket, rolled down the window, then paused just before he flicked on the lighter. "You mind?" 

 

Considering that his truck already stank of tobacco and a bit of weed, Robert really didn't think it mattered. 

 

"And the celebration couldn't be saved for decent hours, I take it?" He supposed, in some way, he appreciated the spontaneity (and the fact that Robert picked him to celebrate with, even if the only reason he did so was because Joseph's bedroom light was on), but what he didn't appreciate was not knowing what their plan for the night was, outside of the bar. Robert seemed like the kind of guy who could either spend the rest of their impromptu get-together drinking like a fish, or drag Joseph into a whole heap of trouble in a supermarket parking lot. 

 

Either way, he was behind the wheel of Robert's beat up truck and clearly headed towards one of the more popular drinking establishments in town without any question or care. 

 

Joseph rolled his own window down when the blunt appeared, deep crease between his brows losing some of its effect when he all but pouted at the other man. " _ Yes _ , but I'm not going to stop you if you insist, either." 

 

Robert paused, the end of his spliff already between his lips, but the lighter still unlit and hovering at the charred tip as he awaited Joseph's answer. He figured he might have some compunctions, but he also figured he'd ask just in case Joseph decided to surprise him. It seemed he wasn't going to, this time around. Robert didn't bother to hide his disgruntlement, dropping the lighter back into the cupholder but keeping the spliff between his teeth if only to abate his oral fixation.

 

"What, you got a problem with a little bit of  _ devil's lettuce _ , Father?" he scoffed, unable to help but needle Joseph for this when he was making it so easy. "What if I told you it's medical?"

 

"I  _ did  _ just tell you I wasn't going to stop you. What you use it for is between you and whoever -  _ whatever  _ \- your higher power is, Robert, and if that higher power just so happens to be your GP, then it is not my place to judge: Only offer spiritual or emotional support if you want or need it." And Robert certainly  _ needed  _ it, but they were what Joseph would call  _ hardly  _ friends. He didn't foresee the man coming to the House of God any time soon, either, and so it was not really his place to butt into Robert's personal life choices. 

 

Joseph was the  _ cool  _ Youth Pastor, after all. Being understanding, relatable, and patient was his entire  _ schtick _ . 

 

Right, so Joseph was one of those 'live and let live' types -- that was fine, he supposed. Definitely an improvement over the highly opinionated, conservative crowd, but still decidedly less  _ fun _ than Robert's philosophy of -- what were the kids calling it these days?  _ YOLO _ ?

 

Anyway, if Joseph wasn't going to outright complain, then Robert was going to deny himself a vice. He grabbed the lighter again and relighted his spliff, taking a deep drag that he was at least careful enough to blow out the passenger side window.

 

"Uh-huh. I was just checking to see if you had some kind of smoke aversion, or asthma, or whatever," he shrugged and took another, longer drag. "Take this next left."

 

It wasn't far from here; just another five minutes of relative silence (on Robert's part, at least) as they drove into town and onto Main. He finished off the last of his spliff and then flicked it out the window and rolled it shut, feeling pleasantly relaxed and a bit more awake thanks to the nicotine. Joseph was missing out.

 

Once they'd parked on an adjacent side-street, Robert hopped out of the truck without a word and led the way to tonight's bar of choice -- an Irish pub that had no doubt been converted from a turn of the century house that, even this late at night, appeared to have a good number of patrons smoking outside and milling about indoors.

 

Out of force of habit, Robert waited for Joseph to catch up to him and held open the door, then followed closely behind as they made their way to the vast wooden bar that stretched across the opposite side of the pub. It was surprisingly nice inside considering the building's exterior -- the place had a distinctly old, quaint vibe to it, with warm lighting and old oak floors and decor suggestive of a real Irish hole-in-the-wall.

 

It was one of Robert's favourite places, anyway, which was probably made obvious by the way tonight's bartender greeted him with a grin and a glass of whiskey on the rocks. Robert winked back and slid into one of the stools, kicking out the one beside him for Joseph.

 

"Order whatever, and don't worry about being the DD," Robert said, dragging his glass of whiskey toward himself but waiting to take a sip. "I can get us a taxi if you aren't sobered up after the--  _ thing _ ."

 

The place they eventually pulled into certainly looked better than Joseph had expected - though he hadn't expected much to begin with, truth be told. It was warmly-lit inside, though admittedly a little dim and smoky. Still, it wasn't a  _ club _ , nor was it some seedy dive bar where the bartenders watered down drinks and prostitutes flirted under the guise of actual interest. 

 

"The  _ thing _ ?" Robert was being very secretive about the nature of their little celebration, but Joseph didn't question him further, yet. He sat down at the bar and ignored the confused looks shot to his back. His aura was such that, even the men and women that  _ knew  _ him (and there he saw Mr. Anderson out of the corner of his eye, staring just a little too hard until he returned eye contact), didn't quite recognize that it was  _ Joseph Christiansen  _ sat there, ordering a whisky neat and knocking it back like Mary herself had taught him how to do shots. 

 

He was simultaneously there and not, and only Robert knew the true identity of the man he was sitting with. 

 

"What exactly are you planning, Robert?" he asked once the first shot was downed and a second appeared before him. "You have to understand I don't make a habit of running around town at all hours of the night with men I've  _ just  _ met, so I'd appreciate knowing what kind of  _ trouble  _ you're getting me into." 

 

The second shot he mulled over a little longer, tipping the glass this way and that to make the amber liquid run and swirl. Someone behind them paused and audibly inhaled as though about to say something until Joseph turned around and Miss Amy ( _ far  _ too young to be in a bar, but Joseph the Youth Pastor had heard her confess it many times) clicked her mouth shut, looking sheepish. 

 

"Sorry; thought I recognized you," she mumbled to her shoes and beat a hasty retreat; Joseph turned to Robert and shrugged, raising his glass up before the strange coincidence could be questioned. 

 

"To a successful move-in, Mr. Small? That is what we're celebrating, right? You didn't just drag me out here because you liked my company?" 

 

If Joseph was going to sidestep questions, then Robert was going to pay him the same respect. He said nothing when pressed about tonight's secret, instead taking a long sip of his whiskey while simultaneously watching as Joseph reached for his. Robert was surprised to note that Joseph didn't order a margarita -- he seemed to have a  _ thing _ for them, after all. It came as a pleasant surprise that Joseph opted for whiskey, instead, and more surprising still when he threw it back without so much as a grimace. Joseph handled his alcohol shockingly well -- hell, he might even put Mary to shame.

 

Robert tried not to look too impressed, and went back to nursing his drink as he scrutinized Joseph a moment longer. A girl briefly approached, recognizing Joseph and then...  _ not _ , seemingly, which was a little bit strange, but Robert didn't think too much of it. That sort of thing happened often enough, anyway.

 

"Hm? Oh, yeah," he muttered, snapping out of his distracted observation as Joseph raised his second shot of whiskey in a toast. Robert clinked glasses with him, then downed the rest of his drink and motioned for the bartender to bring him another. It was only fair he go two-for-two with Joseph, after all. "And-- Wait, did you just call me  _ Mr. Small _ ? Ugh. Trying to make me feel like an old man,  _ Mr. Christiansen? _ "

 

Robert paused a beat, appearing to consider something.

 

"Or should I be calling you  _ Father _ ? Is that too formal?"

 

Robert avoided his question, which left Joseph vaguely annoyed and suspicious as to where this might actually lead them. Hopefully not a jail cell, but even that was a possibility, based on what little he knew about the man beside him. 

 

"Do you have something to  _ confess _ ?" he asked, the corner of his mouth ticking up into a smirk that was very nearly lewd. "I'm only  _ Father  _ behind the pulpit, Robert." 

 

If they were going tit for tat on the shots, Joseph needed another one, which he called for a moment later with an upraised hand to flag the bartender down. "But you can call me  _ Mr. Christiansen _ whenever you'd like." Not that he thought Robert would take him up on that offer. The man looked like he had a problem with any sort of authority. He'd probably fought with his teachers, when he'd been younger. 

 

By the time they'd both downed their third shots for the night (probably sixth or seventh, for Robert), Joseph was feeling pleasantly warm though still aware enough of himself to know that it was time to close his tab. He paid with cash and thanked the bartender with a generous tip, stuffed in one of the jars lining the bartop while a glass of water and his change were brought to him. The change went back in his wallet. The water, he slid across to Robert. 

 

"Have you got me drunk enough to finally tell me where we're going?" There was a slight slur to his words, and his gaze was just a  _ touch  _ unfocused, pupils darker than they should be and sloppy grin a little sharp. 

 

Robert was probably imagining it, but he could have sworn that there was something flirtatious in the way Joseph smirked at him, and it was a struggle of self-restraint for Robert not to say the first lewd thing that came to mind. He was drunk, but the third whiskey took long enough to hit him that he managed to bite his tongue rather than making the smarmy suggestion that 'Father' was too formal, that maybe  _ 'Daddy'  _ would be more appropriately casual.

 

It wouldn't be appropriate, obviously, or casual, and Robert still had enough sense not to be too forward with a married man of God.

 

Though, for a  _ man of God _ , it was shocking just how easily Joseph threw back shots and handled his liquor. Robert was impressed, and honestly  _ glad _ that he'd decided to phone it in at three, because he wasn't sure he could keep up with Joseph beyond that point. Coupled with the lingering high from the weed, he was beginning to feel more inebriated than he usually liked to be in public spaces. Good thing Joseph was here.

 

Wait...  _ Why _ was that a good thing? Robert had handled himself well enough in the past, and now would hardly be any different. 

 

Though, admittedly, the walk home and the glass of water the other night had been a pleasant change in his usual routine of staggering about, alone.

 

This revelation was a bit troubling, and so Robert tried not to think much of it. Even so, it distracted him to the point that he couldn't catch the bartender before Joseph did -- unfortunate, considering that Robert had been planning to pick up his tab. He laid down a few bills and flicked the bartender a quick two-fingered, downed his water in a couple gulps, then slid off his stool somewhat gracelessly to lead the way to the exit. 

 

"It was supposed to be a surprise. Just like I was supposed to be buying you those drinks," he grumbled, holding open the door for Joseph and then following him out into chilly night. "I'll explain while we walk. But first--" Robert fell in step beside Joseph and shot him an intense side-eye, like he was trying to size him up. "Do you scare easily,  _ Mr. Christiansen _ ?"

 

Joseph was quick to follow, once he swallowed the second glass of water the bartender brought around, and couldn't help his laugh at first the statement - Robert seemed so  _ disgruntled  _ about not getting to pay for both their drinks - then at the question, falling into step with the other man once they were outside and back in the midnight chill. 

 

"Are we going to tell each other ghost stories,  _ Mr. Small _ ?" They were shoulder-to-shoulder, each gust of wind sending Robert off his pre-determined path just slightly enough that they brushed each other nearly every other step. Not that  _ Joseph  _ was complaining. Though it was more subtle than the first time they shook hands, every time they touched sent a little thrill of electricity up Joseph's spine. It was distracting in a way he shouldn't of been dwelling on, and yet... 

 

Joseph didn't do much to stop it. 

 

"I suppose it depends on what fears we're discussing." Ghosts and ghouls didn't scare him, for reasons Robert couldn't possibly comprehend. But real-life fears? Losing his children, his clout in the community. Even losing  _ Mary  _ left him a little numb, because without her he would be sent back from where he came. "I don't worry about the things that go  _ thump  _ in the night, if that's what you're asking." 

 

Hearing Joseph call him  _ Mr. Small _ niggled at Robert in a way he tried not to let on, but if Joseph was paying close enough attention he might have noticed the tension in Robert's shoulders or the deepening crease between his eyebrows. He said nothing, though, because letting on that he hated being referred to so formally would only give Joseph ammunition for future needling.

 

"Good," he said, succinct and to-the-point, and for a moment it appeared as though Robert was not going to say anything more on the matter. He kept his gaze focused straight ahead, and though his gait was a bit affected by the alcohol and he near-constantly bumped shoulders with Joseph, Robert walked with seeming determination. 

 

It was not until they had rounded the next corner and headed down a street barely-lit by streetlamps that he bothered to speak again.

 

"There's an old abbey up ahead. The city condemned it just last week, said they're slating it for demolition by the end of the month," he explained at length, still walking at a clip. "You might've heard about the protests, they were talking about it in the papers recently. There's a group trying to argue that it should be kept as a historical site."

 

Up ahead, hulking like a great, spiny creature in the dimness, was a boarded up church. 

 

"Anyway, there's another group the papers never interviewed," Robert continued, voice dropping lower in volume, like he was telling Joseph a closely-held secret.  "They think the city  _ should _ tear this place down, not because of failing infrastructure, or whatever else. Nah, they think it should be torn down to get rid of the  _ thing _ that lives inside."

 

Robert sounded tense - different from the teasing, nearly-jovial way he'd spoken not moments prior - and for a moment Joseph worried he'd said something wrong. Drunks were always so sensitive, but before he even thought to question Robert about what was bugging him the man plowed on, leading them into a sharp left and up a narrow street. 

 

It was more of an alley, really, narrow and cobbled in patches that the city didn't bother or simply couldn't afford to fix, and the storefronts were largely barred up, or at the very least patched together despite still being functioning businesses. It looked like the type of place a man might get mugged, or murdered. 

 

Joseph feared the possibility of neither, and largely doubted that Robert would be a drunken enough fool to try something  _ so _ seemingly out of character. No one shanked a guy in a dimly-lit street after offering to pay for their drinks. 

 

Or maybe they did. 

 

Joseph didn't get the chance to dwell much on the possibilities, anyway. Robert started talking again, frantic and  _ excited  _ to counter the sudden dread that coiled its way through and around Joseph's internal organs. 

 

"The  _ thing _ ?" They stopped, coming to a standstill simultaneously, at the foot of the short staircase which led up to a bolted and locked door. There was a sign hung up, declaring the space boldly 'CLOSED' and another, smaller one (for people who either didn't see or chose to ignore the first) that stated very clearly 'NO TRESPASSING'. Joseph figured those were there for a reason. 

 

He also figured, a split moment before it happened, that Robert was hell-bent on plowing through despite the warnings. 

 

"Are you sure we should be doing this?" The acute sense of unease that pulsed through him might very well have been  _ nothing _ . Old churches always carried ghosts, or remnants of the past or auras from those both grieving and fearful when they stepped through the doors (that was why Joseph had been very careful to choose a modern church to join: one untainted by anything more than the occasional eulogical service).

 

Still, something here made him uncomfortable, and Joseph wholly doubted it had anything to do with the past. 

 

"Seems dangerous, regardless of what reasons it was closed."

 

"The floor's not about to cave in, if that's what you're asking," Robert dismissed Joseph's concerns with a nonchalant shrug, moving past him and ducking underneath the  _ 'CLOSED' _ sign, then veering toward the side of the building,  past the massive set of double doors that marked the front entryway. They were locked, naturally, with a set of heavy chains and a padlock, and seeing as how Robert hadn't bothered bringing his lock pick, he set his sights elsewhere. He'd already come poking around the abbey once before, and he definitely hadn't been the first person to break inside. 

 

"C'mon, I thought you said you weren't scared of things that go  _ thump _ in the night," he beckoned for Joseph with a sly smirk and a wicked gleam in his eyes, clearly unaware of whatever it was that had Joseph looking so-- Well,  _ nervous _ . What had gotten into him, anyway? Was he that afraid of bending a few rules?

 

"You can stay there if you're having second thoughts," Robert said before, no longer content to stand around waiting to see if Joseph would follow, he continued around the building to the set of boarded-up windows toward the back. There was one with nails still missing, enough so that one might pull aside the plywood and slip through the shattered windowsill behind it. Robert found it with relative ease, though it meant stepping in a rose bush and cussing a few times as he clumsily worked on prying the wood planks loose.

 

The floor was the least of Joseph's concerns (though a  _ concern _ , nonetheless). 

 

"I'm not." The fear was more on  _ Robert's  _ behalf. Joseph could handle himself easily-enough, and after the impressive collection of knives he'd seen Robert sporting just about a week ago, he was sure the man could handle himself quite well against any mortal. But squatters or junkies weren't what had Joseph's hair standing on end, and he wasn't sure Robert would believe him (or if he would even listen, for that matter), if he told him what had him so uneasy. 

 

He followed, because he really had no choice, and some minutes later slipped through the shattered window behind Robert, hissing when there was a rather audible  _ rip  _ right through the sleeve of his shirt. 

 

The inside was musty. Covered in a thick layer of dust, the space smelled like an old book and a hospice combined. Underfoot was a combination of animal droppings and more than a fair share of corpses, as well, some stripped down to bone while others were still at various stages of decomposition. Joseph wrinkled his nose and tried to step in none of that, shimmying closer to Robert while he leered around the space. 

 

Some of the pews looked like they had been shoved or knocked aside, upturned and scattered towards the edges of the main room, and he could just make out at least one sleeping bag near the pulpit above which sat a large, gilded cross with Jesus strung upon it. 

 

"This place looks like it's about to fall apart  _ without  _ the city's help," he murmured, blinking rapidly to adjust to the dim gloom. 

 

Truth be told, Robert was a skeptic at heart. He didn't blindly believe in half the stories he told or listened to; he wasn't convinced one way or another whether the supernatural existed, but he had seen one too many strange and inexplicable things in his lifetime that he at least entertained the possibility of there being something more out there. It was why he was so intrigued by local ghost stories and cryptid folklore. At least there were places he could tangibly explore: Old, abandoned buildings, forests and graveyards beneath the light of the moon, quiet alleyways and forgotten side streets... They were fascinating for their history and ambiance, if nothing else, though sometimes Robert would happen upon something strange, even if it was just a chill that left him feeling distinctly ill at ease.

 

He was experiencing some of that right now, actually, standing inside the musty church as he blindly pawed for his phone. Joseph had decided to join him at last, though Robert could barely see him in the gloom.

 

"Yeah, well, they've had it boarded up for almost a decade now," Robert said, his voice still pitched low, as if he was trying to make sure no one overheard them. Even so, his words echoed in the expansive room, as did their footsteps as they crunched atop the debris-littered floor. It wasn't until Robert had managed to fish out his phone and turn on the inbuilt flashlight that he got a good look at what, exactly, they were stepping on. 

 

"Definitely looks like  _ something's _ been living here," he muttered, crouching down to more closely examine the bones scattered along the floor. Robert was no anatomist, but he figured they were animal bones. Most were old enough that they were decaying to dust; others looked  _ fresher _ , with bits of rotted flesh still tacked on. Though not at all a squeamish person, there were enough of them piled about that Robert couldn't help but grimace as he returned to his feet, making a point to shine his light outward rather than pointing it at the floor. "Think it's the  _ Old Abbey Creeper?" _

 

Robert let out a quiet snort as he shone his phone's light at the pulpit, spotting the moth-eaten sleeping bag laid out there. "Or maybe the rumor's are true, and the 'Creeper' is just some homeless guy."

 

That seemed the most likely case, though Robert could  _ swear _ he wasn't imagining the way the back of his neck tingled, as if something was watching…

 

_ Watching  _ was perhaps not  _ quite  _ the word the creature in question would use. It could taste fresh meat in the air, and the vibrations from steps and words had woken it from its light slumber up near the rafters, where it made its home and hid when the light of day filtered through the boarded-up windows. When was the last time something so large entered its lair? 

 

The moth-eaten sleeping bag had been there for  _ years _ . 

 

"I doubt the homeless would be so desperate for food that they'd resort to eating uncooked rodent flesh." It could've been owls, or some other nocturnal predator, but thing was that Joseph could  _ feel  _ it too: something behind and just above them. Waiting. The sensation was so very concentrated that he could no longer delude himself into thinking that it was just the general ambiance of the space they happened to be in. 

 

"Robert, I think we should leave." 

 

The sooner, the better. Clearly, there was something - some kind of magics, or a summoning circle tucked in another room - that kept whatever they were there with stuck in the church and away from the public. Maybe they were far enough out-of-reach, and that was why it hadn't attacked them yet. Or maybe, it was biding its time. Whatever the case, Joseph reasoned that the faster they left, the less likely they would be attacked, and was already half-way back towards the unbarred window when something  _ scuttled down the wall _ , near the large front entrance that they'd bypassed on their way in. 

 

He caught a look at it out of the corner of one pitch-black eye: on all fours, limbs bent as though a child playing with a doll had popped all the joints apart and rearranged them into the wrong configuration. It was roughly the size of a man - gaunt, like its skin had been vacuum-sealed around its interior structures - and while the lack of eyes was disconcerting enough, there was nothing quite as perturbing as the pair of mandibles growing where a normal human jaw  _ should  _ have been. 

 

" _ Robert _ !" It ignored Joseph almost entirely - possibly because it recognized what he was, or possibly because it didn't care, and was only interested in the weaker prey - and let loose an ungodly shriek as it launched itself the final half-dozen feet, propelled by its sense of taste and the sound of Robert's heartbeat. 

 

Sure, Robert felt a little unsettled -- but he was nowhere near as cagey as Joseph, who seemed all at once dead-set on leaving. Robert wasn't on board with the idea, not when they had been here for no longer than a couple minutes. He wanted to explore more than just the main room. Who knew what sort of weird shit they might dig up in the priest's study? Or the confessionals? 

 

"Calm down, man, worst thing we might get is a ticket for trespassing." But Joseph was edging away back toward the window already, leaving Robert standing by the pulpit. Alone.

 

The back of his neck itched again, and the fierce chill that ran down Robert's spine was nearly enough to unsettle him.  _ Nearly _ . He opted instead to swing his phone's light around the surrounding walls, throwing strange, dimly coloured shadows around the room as it reflected off the boarded stained glass windows and the assorted rubble. He shone his phone camera's light upward, toward the high-vaulted ceiling of the pulpit, half-expecting to see the shadowy figures of bats hanging from the beams.

 

"Come on, let's go check out the--" He froze mid-sentence, the words abandoning the moment he saw-- Well, Robert wasn't sure what it was, exactly, because the moment he caught a glimpse of fleshy, vaguely-humanoid form, it  _ moved _ , a pale blur crawling in a mess of misshapen limbs down the opposite wall not unlike a spider. 

 

There was no room for skepticism or bravado, in that moment. Heart hammering violently in his chest, Robert turned tail and sprinted toward the window as Joseph called out to him and that  _ thing  _ let loose a bloodcurdling screech.

 

Robert didn't think he'd ever been so terrified in his life.

 

He reached the open window moments after Joseph and wasted no time or backward glances to the creature pursuing him. It was enough that Robert could  _ hear it _ , scuttling across the bone-littered floor on too many limbs, moving closer and closer so quickly he was sure it would be upon him in a matter of moments.

 

Robert leaped through the sill and landed in the rose bush on all fours. Drunk and high as he was, it was miraculous he'd managed not to land flat on his face, but adrenaline was a hell of a drug, and Robert was crawling free from the brambles and launching himself to his feet in a matter of instants, still running full-tilt and hot on Joseph's heels. 

 

It wasn't until they'd reached the sidewalk, 'safe' beneath the dim glow of the streetlights, that Robert began to feel winded.

 

It was also at that point that he noticed the pain in his hand.

 

" _ Shit _ ," he hissed, glancing down at the source of the throbbing ache. His palm had been sliced wide open, probably by the broken glass when he'd clumsily launched himself through the window. It looked to be a deep cut, judging by amount of blood dripping from the wound and staining red his fingers and the sleeve of Joseph's powder-blue sweater.

 

"Shit, think I ruined your sweater." As if that mattered, considering they might have possibly just narrowly escaped with their lives from the  _ Old Abbey Creeper _ . 

 

Joseph didn't dare look back until they were both out and far down the street, but instinctively he knew that the creature they'd left behind was stuck, kept there by some supernatural force and unable to follow them out. If it  _ had _ , then the rest of the town would have surely been picked apart one person after another. Maybe, a decade ago, there had been a murder spree culled only by an individual strong or stupid enough to think they could bind the beast to that particular church. Joseph didn't care enough to launch a formal investigation into the church's history, but he knew now that he had to return, if only to clean up the mess that whoever came before him left behind. 

 

_ Pests  _ like that creature had no business making home in what Joseph considered quite firmly his territory. 

 

Another night, though. 

 

Right now, his main priority was the intoxicated man panting and swearing beside him, and the sharp tang of blood that filled his senses and briefly clouded his thoughts. 

 

Joseph shook his head and turned his attention to Robert, blinking clear his eyes and sucking in deep, desperate breaths. 

 

"That looks bad." And with the grime buildup on the jagged edges of those windows was likely rife with bacteria. The cut was just begging to be infected, wasn't it? Still, they couldn't go to a hospital. There would be questions: how did it happen, where, what were two grown-ass men doing trespassing on private property? Joseph didn't really fancy answering any of them, nor did he want to just drop Robert off by the emergency room to fend for himself. The man was still intoxicated, possibly cross-faded, and after the nightmare he saw, it'd be downright cruel to leave him alone. 

 

Joseph fished a kerchief out of his pocket and flicked it open with his wrist, shaking it out before folding it up and pressing it quite firmly to the wound. "Clench your fist and hold it there," he ordered, waiting for Robert to hiss through the pain and do as he was told. 

 

Then it was just a matter of getting back to Robert's beat-up old truck. It was still parked where they left it, and Joseph still had the keys on him, which he fished from his pocket as they approached the vehicle. 

 

The scare had done good to sober him up, so he wasn't too worried about getting behind the wheel and navigating them back to his own driveway. Mary's car was still gone, and it was hardly three. None of the kids would be up so late. 

 

"I have a first aid kit in the kitchen. Come on." 

 

It didn't hurt much, but Robert had a feeling that was more a consequence of all the adrenaline still pumping through his system. That, or it just looked a whole lot worse than it really was.

 

In the grand scheme of things, a cut on the palm was the least of Robert's more pressing concerns. He was still reeling, still trying to process what the  _ hell _ had just happened back there. Judging by how shaken Joseph looked, Robert hadn't been hallucinating, so whatever he had seen had definitely been there. Whether or not he'd imagined the grotesque features was another matter, but he had no doubt that what he'd heard was real, that that  _ thing _ had crawled down from the ceiling and chased them both.

 

Trying to hold on to his skepticism was a monumental feat in wake of what Robert had just witnessed. He kept silent for a long moment, deep in disturbed thought as Joseph wound a bit of fabric around his palm to staunch the bleeding, and remained as such (save for his ragged breathing) until they reached his beat-up red pick-up. 

 

The familiarity of it came as a relief, and the moment Robert sank into the passenger seat he made a point of locking his door. Words finally returned to him.

 

"Holy  _ fuck,"  _ he said, still sounding ragged. As Joseph started up the truck, Robert fumbled around for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, hands slightly trembling as he desperately searched for something to take the edge off. He felt far too sober right about now. "You saw that, right? That was--  _ Shit _ . That was real, wasn't it?"

 

As they drove, the adrenaline and fear slowly ebbed away, only to be replaced by a steady pulse of  _ fury  _ that very nearly had him running two red lights, and definitely had him screeching through at least one stop light. Not only had this beast - whatever ghoulish amalgamation of human terror and otherworldly machinations it was - made itself comfortably at home for God-knew-how-long within the lines of Joseph's territory, it had attacked  _ Robert _ . 

 

Robert, a potential asset that Joseph had very quickly and very dangerously grown possessive of. Robert, the very likely ticket to Joseph's freedom, and a man who apparently also happened to have a suicide wish. 

 

Joseph said nothing while Robert fished for his cigarette and lit it up, struggling between tight-lipped anger and the desire to get a little closer to that wound, to taste the blood, maybe, and see if he could tell just by that alone whether or not they were adequately matched, but when Robert started talking - animated in a way Joseph rarely heard him - he deflated, just a little, and heaved an exhausted sigh. 

 

"I don't know. I don't know  _ what  _ we saw," he lied and shook his head, dropping his shoulders from where they were bunched up somewhere around his ears. "It was - it could've been an animal who got stuck in the building, or,  _ gosh _ , Robert. I - I get people calling in about exorcisms a half dozen times a week but I don't actually think it's  _ real _ . Maybe it is, though. Maybe ghosts and, monsters and  _ shit  _ are real." 

 

Robert wasn't sure what he would have preferred to hear, right then: Some rational explanation as to how what he'd thought he'd just seen wasn't real, or a reassurance that he hadn't just experienced some kind of vividly terrifying hallucination. 

 

Instead, Joseph offered him no clarity, which was somehow worse. 

 

"Yeah," he muttered, hands still unsteady as he cupped the lighter to the end of his cigarette and took a long, rasping drag. It did little to ease his frazzled nerves, but at least it gave Robert something to fidget with aside from the handkerchief. It had bled through by now, but the pressure and the adrenaline kept the pain to little more than a dull throb. 

 

"Yeah... Maybe." Would it be better if ghosts were real, or would Robert rather live with the knowledge that he and Joseph -- two fully grown men -- had just gone running in terror from some wild animal or guy in a costume. The latter was almost  _ comical _ , in a way, maybe only because the more distance they put between themselves and the abandoned church, the less terrifyingly  _ real _ it all felt.

 

Also, because Robert had just come to the realization that he'd heard Joseph cuss for the first time.

 

He exhaled a thick plume of smoke (not out the window, which was still firmly shut) and then couldn't bite down a muffled, somewhat manic chuckle.

 

"Figures it'd take a near-death experience to get you to swear. I hope the Big Guy didn't hear you." It was easier to joke about this than to keep serious, and for once Robert was itching for the distraction of a bit of small talk.

 

"I think, just this once, He'll forgive it," Joseph muttered in response, but even he couldn't help crack a smile at the jab. The worst that had come out of their little encounter was a cut on Robert's palm, and within forty-eight hours, Joseph would take care of their little pest problem. He couldn't help but wonder what might of happened if he'd declined joining Robert on his little adventure, and then just as quickly banished the thought from his mind. 

 

It didn't matter. 

 

They were safe, and before Robert had the chance to finish his cigarette they were pulling into the Christiansen driveway and Joseph was killing the engine. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone curious:
> 
> Fresh wrote for Joseph  
> Tea wrote for Robert


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More drunk, and bad decisions are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please accept these long nasties in exchange for the hiatus we took for like... a month.
> 
> \--------------
> 
> This account is run and managed by two people: Tea and Fresh.
> 
> We are RP partners, and we're using this platform to unload our (copious) number of RPs.  
> Mostly smut, tbh.
> 
> The POV changes frequently, given the nature of roleplay writing, and if there are any noticeable continuity gaps it's 100% because the rp was abandoned for a few days/weeks before getting picked up again.
> 
> None of these works have been edited, touched up, or polished.

"Come on. We need to get a better look at your hand. Put your cigarette out before you come inside." 

 

Mary's car was still gone, so Joseph thought nothing of inviting a bloody and intoxicated Robert into his home, slipping out of the car and making his way to the front door. Once inside, he waited for Robert to stumble after him, catching the man around the waist when it looked like he missed the small step into the house. 

 

"You can... stay the night here, if you're not comfortable going home." It would end up in another fight, but Joseph didn't want to send the man back to his place after what he'd witnessed, and if he were being frank, he'd feel much safer with Robert nearby, too. Or, rather, he'd feel better knowing that Robert was safe. 

 

He flicked the light on in the kitchen and sat Robert down at the breakfast nook, going to fetch the First Aid kit from the top of the fridge, along with a glass of water and a damp washtowel. 

 

"Alright, let's see the damage." 

 

If not for his frazzled nerves, Robert would have resisted Joseph's (completely unnecessary) fussing. His hand wasn't in such bad shape that he couldn't take care of it himself; after all, he'd given himself worse cuts whittling before, and still had the scars to prove it.

 

However, Robert wasn't keen on the idea of returning to an empty house just yet. He wasn't about to admit to it, but being around Joseph felt a bit  _ safer _ than being alone. It was why he made a point to hastily snuff out his cigarette and stumble out of the truck after Joseph without protest, throwing surreptitious glances over his shoulder as he followed Joseph through the front door.

 

The main floor was unlit and quiet;Mary either wasn't home or was fast asleep upstairs, which came as some relief, because Robert didn't want to explain why he was with her husband in the dead of night, stinking of booze and alcohol and jittery from nerves. He kept quiet in case she really was home, and put up no protest as Joseph led him into the kitchen and sat him down in a chair.

 

"It looks worse than it is," Robert grumbled, but still offered no resistance as he unwound the kerchief from his hand and held out his blood-smeared palm for Joseph to examine. It was still sluggishly bleeding and had bits of debris sticking to the wound, no doubt from the dirty window sill.

 

"It looks  _ bad _ ," Joseph countered, and didn't mention just how much asbestos had probably been in the building. He wouldn't of been surprised to learn it was already infected. 

 

Still, he wasn't exactly a doctor to pass judgement on what the best course of action was. The only thing he could do was clean and wrap the wound, which he proceeded to do after pulling a chair closer to where Robert was sat. From the kit, Joseph pulled out a small bottle of peroxide, uncapping it and letting some of the liquid dribble out onto Robert's hand. It fizzed up immediately, bubbling and agitating the dried blood until it peeled away and washed off some of the debris into a tupperware container Joseph had grabbed at random. 

 

He repeated the process another half-dozen times, until the peroxide ran relatively clear and most of the blood had washed away, letting him get a better look at the gash itself. 

 

"I hope you're up-to-date on your tetanus shots," he said at length, bending over to get a closer look. A little  _ too  _ close, perhaps, because he was halfway to darting his tongue over the little bit of blood still tacked to the skin of Robert's palm when he caught himself and shot up straight, clearing his throat and glancing away. 

 

"Let it dry and then we'll get it wrapped up with some antibac ointment, okay?" 

 

That was a good question, and also one Robert didn't actually know the answer to. He could find out easily enough, he was sure, but whether or not Robert actually  _ cared _ enough to was another matter entirely. It might have been a bit of those self-destructive tendencies coming through, but he hadn't been to a doctor in years, and blaming it on a lack of comprehensive health coverage was more of an excuse than anything.

 

Robert decided not to comment rather than giving Joseph any cause for concern. He kept quiet as Joseph worked at cleaning off the blood, reining in the urge to jerk his hand away from the occasional sting. It was decidedly weird, letting someone take care of him like this. Robert had to make a conscious effort not to squirm uncomfortably in his seat. Why was he going along with this, anyway? He was sober enough to patch himself up, and just because he'd followed Joseph inside didn't mean he had to sit here and let the guy play nurse with him.

 

... And  _ that _ was an interesting mental image, not to mention an unexpected one, too, considering that Robert had been lost in anxious thought for the past twenty minutes.

 

Maybe he needed the distraction.

 

"Hey," Robert looked up just in time to catch Joseph nervously glancing away. There was a faint flush to his face that may not have been obvious if he hadn't been drained and pale-looking moments ago, and a stiffness to his posture that Robert couldn't help but notice. "You doing alright? That was-- Uh, not how I figured we'd end the night."

 

Robert's sheepish expression suddenly lifted, replaced instead by a (still slightly manic) smirk.

 

"Actually, it ended  _ better _ than I figured it would. Now we can say we both saw  _ The Old Abbey Creeper _ and lived to tell the story." He winked. "I'd say that's a pretty big accomplishment, yeah? Not bad for a first-time cryptid hunt."

 

Joseph had to stop. 

 

It was bad enough he'd spent the past week's worth of showers jerking himself furiously to the thought of something that might not even  _ happen  _ (Robert could very easily die during the transfer, and as shame of a loss as that would be, since Joseph actually  _ liked  _ the man and all, it was still very much a possibility), Robert might react poorly to finding everything out in the first place, which would still result in his unfortunate demise. 

 

At least the whole cryptid thing seemed  _ promising _ . Robert wasn't off-put by the possibility of the otherworldly and supernatural, so that whole entire hurdle could be surpassed without struggle. 

 

That just left the rest. 

 

"How  _ did  _ you figure we'd end the night?" In the back of Robert's shitty truck, maybe, some treacherous part of Joseph's mind suggested. He shut it down before the thought could get away from him and into decidedly inappropriate territory, focusing back on Robert's hand instead. That was easier to deal with than errant fantasies about screwing the man in the back seat of his pickup. 

 

"Honestly, I'd hoped for something a little quieter than nearly getting killed by who-knows-what." He couldn't rightly deny that it was something not of the human world. The longer he thought about it, the less it seemed like something he could handwave away as a stray dog, or some other malnourished animal. Dogs didn't have that many legs, for one, nor did they make horrible noise nor scramble up and down walls. 

 

"You're lucky this is all you got out with, Robert." He spent a little time dabbing the wound dry with a spare bit of gauze, then smothered it in antibacterial cream, wrapping everything up tight in an effort to keep the delicate scab from splitting in the night. 

 

"Do you go on these adventures often?" 

 

That was another good question -- and also one Robert wasn't sure he should be giving an honest answer to.

 

"Oh, you know. Figured we'd wander around an empty old church, maybe throw some rocks and bust up a few windows, get bored, then head home," he shrugged, and though it wasn't a lie, it wasn't the full truth, either. Robert had held onto a small and admittedly pathetic hope that he hadn't been imagining all those blushing glances Joseph had been throwing him this past week, that he might take Robert's flirting more seriously, that the whiskey might have loosened him up enough, that his marriage with Mary really was up in the air and he was looking for a bit of meaningless rebound sex...

 

Yeah, no way was Robert mentioning any of that. He was an asshole, sure, but he didn't like to think of himself as a homewrecker. Maybe if Joseph initiated, Robert could pretend like he wasn't somehow at fault for harboring less-than-pious thoughts for his neighbor these past few days.

 

He just needed to get laid. Especially after tonight.

 

"But yeah, once or twice a month, when I've got nothing better to do," Robert said, but once again chose to omit some of the truth: he usually went on these adventures when he had  _ no one _ better to do. His go-to alternative to late-night booty calls was late-night drinking and cryptid hunting, after all. "Why? Are you already looking forward to the next one?"

 

Robert flashed him another smirk. It was the most he'd smiled in one evening, at least around Joseph, and he might have been more conscientious of this if he wasn't still so shaken up.

 

"I never pinned you for an adrenaline junkie."

 

Throwing rocks at abandoned church windows was something better reserved for teenage delinquents and their ilk, not for forty-something year old men who paid a mortgage and presumably kept full-time jobs. 

 

"I'm not." Not in quite the same way that Robert was, at any rate. Joseph planned things, in advance. He had contingencies lined up depending on who - or what - he met on his own little adventures. But it had been  _ so long _ since there was last a threat either to his territory or to Mary's life. She was powerful and he was dangerous, and anything with the capacity for rational thought had long-since realized the fact and opted to steer clear of their cozy little suburb. 

 

This creature was an anomaly. A  _ stupid  _ one, at that, though Joseph would still take whatever pleasure he could from ending its wretched existence. He had to get his kicks somehow, after all, even if killing something that didn't know its head from its ass was less-than-satisfying. 

 

There was a beat of silence, then: "At least not  _ so  _ obviously." Joseph returned the little grin and lingered with his fingers pressed to Robert's just a little too long before finally letting go. 

 

"Does it hurt?" 

 

There were moments when Robert felt reasonably confident that Joseph was  _ interested _ , that those smiles and 'accidental' touches were entirely purposeful and meant as subtle flirtations. In those moments, he was left to seriously consider just how forward was too forward. Maybe he could push things a little, get a better idea whether Joseph was just being an oblivious tease or there really was  _ something _ there. 

 

Robert hoped there was. He shouldn't, because there were plenty of other unmarried men and women he could be falling into bed with for fun, but that hope was stubbornly resilient to being snuffed out, and Joseph was too intriguingly odd.

 

That, or maybe Robert just had a thing about wanting what he couldn't have. 

 

"Nah," he said, admittedly disappointed when Joseph let go of his hand. He gave it an experimental stretch, and the accompanying pain that lanced through his fingertips when he stretched the injured skin had Robert grimacing. "...A little," came his mumbled amendment, though it was nothing booze or painkillers couldn't cure.

 

The bloodstains on Joseph's sweater, however...

 

"Doubt that's going to come out," Robert shot the stained sleeve of the powder-blue garment a pointed glance. "I'll buy you a new one."

 

Joseph wanted Robert to be a little bit more forward. 

 

Not that he was subtle to begin with, but Joseph was still gripped by an unfortunate case of  _ pragmatism _ . He didn't want to rush things, for fear of what it might do to their tenuous friendship, nor did he want to have to explain all the complicated nuances of their potential relationship  _ after  _ they fucked. Frankly, he didn't really want to betray Robert's trust, and wasn't that something? Joseph couldn't remember the last time he cared enough about such a thing to make a concerted effort to be delicate. 

 

Maybe his position in the Church was making him too soft. 

 

"Here." He fished a bottle of painkillers from the kit and set them down, moving to clean up the bloody supplies and wash his hands. 

 

"And thank you. You don't have to worry too much about it." Joseph would work the sleeve over as much as he could, and then leave the rest to fate. It wasn't like he was running low on sweaters. 

 

He dried his hands after washing them and lingered a little longer in the kitchen, draining a glass of water in a few large swallows before coming to sit by Robert again, suddenly  _ exhausted  _ and decidedly sober after their little adventure. 

 

"Do you want me to pull out the couch?" 

 

Robert had a feeling that he should be saying  _ ' _ no'. It was probably the least morally dubious response to that, but he was weak, and more besides, Robert had never pretended to be a very morally upstanding guy.  _ Morally loose _ was a more apt description of his character, and in the face of temptation he could hardly be expected to make the right choice.

 

Besides, he needed the company right about now. Maybe Joseph did, too.

 

"Don't bother. Couch is fine as-is," Robert said, voice a bit gravelly now that the adrenaline had finally worn off and the exhaustion was beginning to sink in. He was usually a night owl, but after that impromptu sprint and the strain all that fear had put on his heart, he wasn't feeling all that keen on staying up until sunrise.

 

Although Robert could certainly be convinced to stay up later for something suitably  _ distracting _ ...

 

"You sure this is okay?" he asked suddenly as Joseph moved into the living room, presumably to set up aforementioned couch. Robert followed close on his heels. Maybe a little too close. He could swear he could see tension in Joseph's shoulders, but that might have just been lingering skittishness from earlier. "Feels like I might be intruding."

 

If Joseph was visibly startled by the fact that Robert agreed in the first place, then at least Robert tactfully didn't mention the fact. Frankly, Joseph wasn't sure why he'd offered in the first place (because he wanted the company; because he wanted to be  _ close  _ to someone, anyone at all) when Robert lived right across the street. 

 

He convinced himself it was for the sake of Robert's safety and led the way to the living room, pulling a handful of pillows and a blanket from an armoire on one side of the room. He tossed them on the couch, to be arranged at Robert's leisure, then pulled open another glass-doored cabinet, fishing around for two shot glasses and a bottle of  _ Sauza _ . 

 

"Of course it's okay." Temptation gripped his chest and made his knees feel weak, but Joseph wasn't going to kick Robert out after their hectic night. "And I know I shouldn't even be offering, after giving you painkillers, but -" he capped the bottle and turned around with the shot glasses extended, offering one to Robert, "- to take the edge off?" This was a bad idea. The worst one he'd had in a long time, in fact, but Robert didn't refuse and Joseph clinked their glasses like he was sealing a deal, knocking his shot back quick and sharp so it didn't burn so rough on the way down. 

 

"I've got some spare clothes, if you want to change, and the bathroom's right down the hall." 

 

For a so-called youth minister, Joseph was surprisingly nonchalant about alcohol consumption. Robert hadn't expected to be offered anything from that (frankly impressive) liquor cabinet, and he figured it was better not to ask despite how much he was hankering for  _ something _ to douse his nerves. Joseph was full of little surprises, though, and Robert couldn't help but cock an eyebrow and grin when he caught sight of the bottle of tequila and accompanying shot glasses.

 

"Thanks," he said, and with a little nod and a clink of their glasses, he threw back his liquor without so much as a grimace. Robert hoped the buzz would hit him soon -- he  _ needed _ it, for more than just a cure to his nerves. A bit of liquid courage, perhaps? A way to circumvent those pesky  _ doubts _ that kept him waffling on whether or not to back off or boldly make a move?

 

Robert handed the empty shot glass back to Joseph, hoping he might pour him another but not bothering to ask. Rather, he began to undress, nonchalant as he shucked Joseph's bloodied sweater and then moved to do the same of his jeans. He preferred not to sleep in pants whenever possible, though if Robert was being honest, there was more than a little  _ suggestion _ behind the way he started unfastening his belt in front of Joseph, movements slow and purposeful.

 

It definitely meant something that Joseph didn't look away. Before he could, Robert locked eyes with him, gaze sharp and mouth curved into a knowing smirk.

 

"Are you usually this obvious about checking other men out?"

 

It wasn't like Joseph let the  _ youth  _ consume it. His job was to guide them onto a path where smart decision-making and a reverence for God were above any and everything else, not scare the living hell out of them. And anyway: he was a grown adult who could make his own bad life choices, and wasn't the whole point of human life to make sure your kids grew up to be better than you were? 

 

With the way things were going, he was making it damn easy for that to happen. 

 

Already, the tequila had him feeling warm and the night's earlier terror was fading only to be replaced by something that was, at its core, far more dangerous. 

 

He collected both of their glasses and set them on the cabinet top, but before he could offer up a second shared shot, Robert was already stripping, starting with the sweater and  _ not stopping _ once that was off. He shucked his pants and Joseph stared, making no apparent effort to look away or otherwise give the man some privacy. It seemed like Robert didn't care, either way. He stepped out of his shoes and then had the audacity to further show off. Not that a little bit of ankle was really  _ scandalous _ , but Joseph couldn't help himself. Robert's thighs were thickly-haired as the little sliver of stomach he'd seen a week ago, and Joseph wanted nothing more than to put himself between them, imagining all the possible ways he could bend the man over the couch when Robert spoke. 

 

Joseph started, catching Robert's eye briefly even as he moved quickly to turn away, color and shame at being caught out flooding his cheeks. 

 

"Only when I want them to know I am." He was surprised his voice didn't waver, and he chanced a glance back at Robert, too foolish to back out now. "You're not bad on the eyes, Robert." 

 

If he  _ really _ wanted to shut Robert down, Joseph had been presented with the perfect opportunity to. He could have denied he'd been looking, or just flat-out said he wasn't interested. Anything else was just an open invitation, really, and when had Robert ever been one to turn down something so tempting?

 

Moral looseness had its perks in situations such as these. It didn't matter who was sleeping upstairs. It didn't matter that Joseph was a married man, either. If he wasn't going to give Robert a clear  _ no _ , then he would take what he could get.

 

"Yeah? You think so, huh?" Robert's voice, always so deep and gruff, sounded nearly like a  _ purr _ now -- honey-warm and smoky, and dripping with such barefaced suggestion that there was no mistaking his flirtations for anything else. But if there was any doubt, Robert made sure to quickly dispel it; he moved closer, pants unzipped, belt loose, and red T-shirt riding up his stomach. He reached around Joseph, taking one of the refilled shot glasses from his hand, unsubtle in the way he pressed up against Joseph's back and the clothed curve of his ass. His unbandaged hand -- scarred from old cuts and rough with calluses -- slid intentionally along Joseph's palm and fingertips before taking the shot glass from him. Still, Robert made no moves to step away, even as he gulped back his tequila with a deep, approving hum.

 

"Could say the same about you,  _ Father. _ "

 

Every one of Robert's touches was electric, especially when he moved with such purpose as he did now. Joseph had watched him approach from the corner of his eye as he refilled their glasses, and when Robert pressed against him - solid and heavy all down his back - Joseph wasn't even subtle about leaning back. 

 

"Do you have something to  _ confess _ ?" It was blasphemous, a mockery of Joseph's work and life position, but damn if it didn't have liquid heat pooling at the base of his spine. "Because, Robert, unless you plan on telling me all of your  _ dirty  _ secrets, I'm sure you can think of other things to call me." His fingers tingled where Robert brushed against them, but Joseph took his shot like all the others, setting the glass back down on the counter top with a decisive  _ clink _ . 

 

He could feel Robert, growing hard with nothing to hide it, and the sheer shamelessness of the fact had Joseph gasping, face flush and body burning hot. 

 

Was this a bad idea? Yes, undoubtedly, but Joseph was committed to it, twisting around before he lost his nerve to haul Robert closer by a handful of dark hair. 

 

"I'm  _ flattered _ , though," he rumbled, teeth set against Robert's pulse. It pounded against his lips, but Joseph wasn't stupid enough to bite him; instead, he slotted one thigh neatly between Robert's legs and pulled his hair a little harder. Something told him Robert liked it, though. 

 

Something told him Robert liked a lot of things. " _ God _ , you can't even imagine how much I want to  _ fuck  _ you right now, Robert." 

 

However much Robert had come to expect surprises from him, there was a hard limit to what he could take without being thrown completely off-kilter. He had taken most of whatever curveballs Joseph had thrown at him so far in stride. But  _ this --  _ this was more than Robert had bargained for, for all that he had hoped and counted on a positive response from his bold advance. He wasn't entirely sure what he expected, actually, but it hadn't been for Joseph to confess something so blunt, so vulgar, so...

 

_ Fucking hot _ . 

 

A jolt of heat shot from Robert's spine and straight to his cock, which had already been reacting to the press of Joseph's ass. Now it was hard and making an obvious tent in the front of his loose boxers, practically throbbing at a mere, indelicate tug at his hair. Joseph's words were one thing, but his unexpectedly rough treatment was another one entirely, and how he'd gone from subtle and flustered to  _ this  _ was enough to give Robert whiplash. For a long moment he could summon no clear thought, his head buzzing from the alcohol and the rush of endorphins as Joseph's teeth scraped against his throat and his knee nudged up against his dick. 

 

It was the most enthusiastic response Robert could have hoped for, which was exactly why he hadn't hoped for it -- and also why he was left so dazed and inept, all his honeyed words and smooth flirting forgotten in wake of this latest development.

 

But Robert was only stunned, not  _ broken _ , and once his brain had been given a few moments to reboot itself, he seemed to recall how to work his hands and mouth.

 

" _ Shit _ ," he rumbled, knees weak at another little yank of his hair, the ache of it sending sweet throbs of pleasure from his head to his cock. With his hands free and Joseph pressed against him, it only made sense where to take this next. Robert hooked an arm around his waist and palmed roughly at his ass (oh, how he'd been  _ itching _ to do that for days now) and then stumbled backward toward the couch, dragging Joseph down with him when the backs of his knees hit the edge of the cushions. He landed upright with Joseph pulled onto his lap, and used his new vantage point to slide his hands up the front of Joseph's shirt, dragging his coarse palms along the smooth plane of his stomach.

 

"Yeah, got  _ plenty _ of dirty secrets," he said in a murmur, rolling his hips upward as if to make a point. "Seems like you do, too. How long've you wanted this?"

 

Robert was  _ very  _ enthusiastic, though Joseph hadn't expected anything less from him, really. They'd been flirting since pretty much the first they'd met, and Joseph was sure that, if Robert hadn't been caught between his desire and whatever moral stance he had about sleeping with a married man, they might've been here sooner. Near-death experiences were apparently enough to tip them both over the edge, though, Joseph's pragmatism thrown out the window and whatever lingering inhibitions Robert might of had gone the same way. 

 

Joseph got one good lick in - dragging a slightly-too-long tongue from Robert's bobbing adam's apple up to his jaw - before he was being urged along, hand on his ass and Robert's hot breath in his ear. He found himself on the couch, straddling Robert's thighs and panting against his jaw until the moment hands passed under the hem of his shirt, warm as they ghosted up his stomach. 

 

"Wanted to choke you on my dick the moment you slammed the door in my face," he whispered, running his tongue over his lips. They stung where Robert's beard had rubbed against him, tinted cherry red and overly sensitive after he'd gone and kissed along his stubbled throat. They tingled, too, and tasted faintly of cologne and sweat, which lingered on his tongue even as he pressed his mouth somewhere new, closing his teeth around the lobe of one of Robert's ears. 

 

" _ Still  _ want to choke you on it, if we're being honest." Just the thought of it - Robert's mouth stretched thin around the girth of his dick, spit running down his chin and eyes glassy with unshed tears - had Joseph hissing out a moan between sharp teeth, hips jerking forward so that Robert could feel just how hard he was straining against the zipper of his trousers. 

 

His fingers plucked at Robert's shirt, claws scratching through the thick tufts of hair on his stomach and the soft pads of his palms running along his chest. "And what about  _ you _ , Robert? What kind of secrets do you have to share?" 

 

It had been shocking enough hearing Joseph swear when he had made such a pointed effort  _ not _ to, so the abrupt change from PG-13 vocabulary to the decidedly R-rated  _ filth _ pouring from his lips now left Robert feeling a bit breathless. He was incredibly turned on, too. Just knowing that Joseph had actually been fantasizing about getting Robert's mouth around his dick would have been one thing, but that he admitted to it, that he'd confessed to wanting to make him  _ choke _ ...

 

Robert couldn't help but groan, the sound vibrating deep in his chest as he felt Joseph's (surprisingly sharp) teeth scrape against his earlobe and his (also surprisingly sharp) nails drag down his sternum. This was not how he expected things to go -- how could he have guessed that Joseph would turn into such a shameless, wanton whore when he let go of his inhibitions? -- but Robert was not complaining. Quite the opposite, actually.

 

"Fucking shameless," he accused, though it sounded more like breathless praise than chastisement. Robert could feel Joseph's dick straining against his pants, hot and hard and grinding insistently down against his lap like Joseph was actively trying to drive him crazy. He might've, too, if Robert didn't have control of his hands. As it was, it was easy enough to get them between Joseph's thighs and fumble with the fastenings of his pants until he could get the front of them open.

 

"Don't think it's much of a  _ secret _ anymore," Robert said in a purr, slipping a hand down the front of Joseph's pants to palm at his dick through cotton briefs. "I want to see how wrecked you look after a good fucking. I want to see how much of a  _ freak _ you really are in bed."

 

Because didn't it figure that someone so strange and seemingly well-to-do like Joseph Christiansen would be a completely different person in the bedroom?

 

Robert didn't know the half of it. But it was okay, because Joseph would be  _ more _ than happy to show him. 

 

"If you don't pipe down, I'm going to have to  _ make _ you," he hissed, thumb teasing gently at Robert's adam's apple and the rest of his fingers curled around the back of his neck. Despite that Joseph wanted to hear every breathless moan and needy whimper, he wasn't so far gone that he forgot they weren't alone. His kids were upstairs - sleeping - and to wake any one of them up would spell disaster for all the fun that they were having. He kissed Robert again, biting a bruise into his collarbone where it wouldn't be caught unless he had his shirt off, then slid both hands back down that hirsute chest, scratching carefully through thick tufts of hair as he went. 

 

Down and past Robert's zipper, Joseph felt his fingers brush against something  _ odd  _ \- straps tucked carefully under the fabric of Robert's loose jeans. He paused, feeling them out a moment longer with a tense crease between his brows, then decided _ fuck it _ , and shifted just enough to help Robert peel off his pants. 

 

"Why am I  _ not  _ surprised?" After the number of knives he'd seen Robert display during their brief time as acquaintances, seeing him sport a thigh holster with a wicked-looking bowie blade seemed only  _ natural _ . 

 

Joseph slid one finger under a random strap, tightening it with a little bit of pressure and a wicked grin. "Do you have a  _ thing  _ for knives, Robert? Has anyone ever cut you up in bed?" 

 

Robert  _ liked _ danger -- be it the threat of being caught, or choked out, or  _ cut up _ \-- and so he was nothing shy of achingly hard from every filthy comment leaving Joseph's mouth. It came as a relief when Joseph finally worked at helping Robert tug his pants the rest of the way down. There were still his boxers to contend with, and the leather holster strapped to his right thigh, but at least now when Robert dragged Joseph closer by the palmfuls of his ass and rocked his hips against the hard bulge of his dick, he could really  _ feel  _ it. Of course, dry-humping through cotton briefs was nothing like the real thing, and Robert never had been a patient man. After a few rough jerks of his hips, he let out an agitated growl and slipped his thumbs down the waistband of Joseph's briefs, starting to yank them away.

 

His efforts were briefly thwarted by a pinch in his right thigh, and an accompanying pressure as the leather strap -- so tantalizingly close to his cock -- was pulled tight. Robert flinched and tensed but made no move to squirm away or swat at Joseph's hand. Instead, he leaned forward, hot breath puffing against the side of Joseph's throat like he was considering biting him  _ above _ the collar, of all places. 

 

"Once or twice," he confessed, because by this point there were very few things Robert felt like being coy about. "Why, you like a bit of knifeplay? That the kind of freak you are in the sack?"

 

Robert let out a quiet, breathy chuckle as he resumed divesting Joseph of his briefs. The shirt could go next -- right now, he wanted to get a hand (or better yet, his  _ mouth _ ) on Joseph's dick. "What else are you into?"

 

"Red  _ is  _ a good color on you," Joseph returned with a thoughtful hum, stuttering on his next breath when Robert's fingers plucked at his underwear and brushed none-too-subtly against his dick. He didn't fight it, lifting his hips up and letting Robert tug the briefs over the curve of his ass and finally off. While he was on his feet, he did Robert the same courtesy, unbuckling the straps and sliding them - along with Robert's boxers - to the floor. When he returned to Robert's lap it was with the bowie in one hand, unsheathed and very,  _ very  _ sharp. 

 

Joseph could appreciate a man who took care of his prized possessions and he took care to handle the knife with the utmost respect, twisting it this way and that before bringing the flat side up to Robert's shoulder. 

 

"What else do you  _ think _ ?" Joseph could do this for a while. He liked the position they were in, with Robert's pupils wide and color flooding his cheeks while his pulse thrummed rapidly under his skin. He liked knowing that was the kind of reaction he could expect from just a little bit of a threatening gesture. "Stay still, Robert. Otherwise I'll have to restrain you." His free hand reached between them, knuckle dragging over Robert's dick before he closed his palm around them both, lip wedged between his teeth to muffle any sounds he might've made. It was a little too dry, a little painful, but  _ God  _ did it feel good. 

 

Robert's breath caught in his throat as he felt the first press of cool metal against his heated skin, held flat against his collar with the blade itself tantalizingly close to the base of his throat. The threat was implicit -- all it would take was one twitch of Joseph's wrist, and he could slice a clean line from Robert's pulse point to his collarbone -- and he relished in that knowledge, thrilled by the mere  _ possibility  _ of danger. His heart hammered wildly in his chest and he felt his head spin from a heady mix of adrenaline and alcohol and a lingering feeling of shock _.  _ Robert had figured there was more to Joseph than met the eye, but he hadn't expected anything quite like  _ this _ .

 

Maybe if he had, he wouldn't be feeling so completely overwhelmed.

 

"I think--" he could barely get the words out, muffled as they were by quiet hisses and deep groans as Joseph wrapped his hand around their cocks. With nothing more than pre to ease away the friction, the slow drag of his palm was almost too intense. Robert grunted, toes curling and blunt nails digging into the meat of Joseph's ass where both hands had taken hold, and forehead pressing against his shoulder before he could submit to the temptation and leave bite marks where he shouldn't. In fact, leaving marks  _ anywhere _ were probably a bad idea, which was the only reason why Robert had yet to strip off Joseph's shirt. A fair, unmarked chest would be too great of a temptation, and Robert had never been one to deny himself what he desired.

 

"I think you did a good job fooling me with that 'good Christian neighbour' act," Robert confessed, peering down at Joseph's hand as he slowly --  _ so slowly  _ \-- worked it up and down their cocks, the darkly flushed heads disappearing into his fist with every upstroke. "Should have known you were a kinky  _ slut _ ."

 

Joseph growled, something too deep, too bestial, and squeezed both of their dicks in his palm, tossing the blade aside in order to get a fresh handful of Robert's hair. There was something about the pejorative - about being called a  _ slut  _ by a man who'd done nothing but unashamedly flirt with him since they met - that had his blood singing in his veins and his dick leaking pre freely over his fingers. 

 

He dragged Robert's head back, until he was peering up at the 80s-style popcorn ceiling above them, then latched his teeth to the side of Robert's throat, overcome by the sudden desire to  _ claim  _ him. 

 

It was foolish; anyone would be able to see those marks, but Joseph reasoned that Robert was well-enough known around town by this point that no one would suspect the Christian youth minister to be the one that left them. 

 

"You don't know the half of it," he rumbled once he was satisfied with the deep, purple bruise that was left behind. Joseph wasn't normally  _ so  _ possessive, but neither were the men he slept with  _ such  _ temptations. In fact, while normally he could stretch the sweet torture of a slow handjob to what felt like near-infinity, even he was getting impatient. A few more indulgent passes of his palm and he was pulling it away in favor of sliding off of Robert's lap and between his thighs, instead. He pressed his mouth to one, darting his tongue along the inseam and up to where Robert's skin was flush pink and sensitive. 

 

Robert's dick was as unruly as the rest of him, veiny and drooling precum when Joseph finally reached close enough to close his mouth around it. He didn't - not just yet - and merely spent a moment breathing over it, mouth parted and dark,  _ dark  _ eyes peering at the man perched above him. 

 

"Do you want it bad enough to beg?" 

 

As Robert soon discovered, Joseph was a  _ biter _ .

 

It probably shouldn't surprise him, by this point. Between the biting, the cussing, the  _ knife play _ , the utterly unabashed teasing and the wicked gleam to his teeth (why did they look so sharp?) and the dark glint in his eyes (weren't they supposed to be blue?), Joseph was the antithesis to the good Christian neighbor he'd played at being outside of the bedroom. This must be what Robert had been looking for -- the nagging, intriguing  _ something _ that had lingered under that insipidly prim exterior. He felt like he'd just struck gold, because for all that he had suspected there was more to Joseph than met the eye, Robert had never imagined he would be such a sexual deviant.

 

Not that he was complaining. Quite the opposite, actually.

 

Robert slumped against the back of the couch when at last Joseph released the fistful of his hair, his neck stinging where he'd been bitten. That had no doubt left a bruise, but it mattered very little. It wasn't like he was a working professional or a married man with a reputation to maintain, and he  _ liked _ the pain, liked being roughed up, liked wondering whether or not Joseph might draw blood, next time. The mix of raw pleasure and the thrill of potential danger had Robert desperately eager for more, and so when Joseph slid off his lap, denying him the sweet friction of their cocks pressed together and teasing strokes of his palm, he could hardly stand it.

 

Joseph, meanwhile, appeared particularly smug when he knelt between Robert's hairy thighs, peering up at him with pupils blown so wide that black had taken over his pretty blue irises. If he really thought about it, that was a bit  _ strange _ , but Robert couldn't possibly care less about what Joseph's eyes looked like right then. He was far more interested in how he'd look with a dick in his mouth.

 

With a frustrated grunt, Robert ran his fingers back through Joseph's hair, making a point to muss it out of its usual well-kept style. Then he yanked Joseph closer, pulling his face into his lap, so that his dick nudged against Joseph's cheek and smeared precum along his bottom lip. 

 

"Think maybe  _ you _ should be the one begging," he countered, expression dark and hungry as he watched Joseph's mouth, those plush pink lips so tantalizingly  _ close. " _ You were awfully eager to get on your knees for me. You've been fantasizing about this, haven't you?"

 

" _ God _ , yes," Joseph purred, mouth slurring the words into the sensitive skin of Robert's cock. "Even more, now that I know what a  _ sinfully _ tempting dick you have." It was  _ fat _ \- the kind of dick a man might not necessarily choke on, if he were practiced, but the kind that was still a pleasant-looking mouthful - and uncut, drooling precum in thick, shiny rivulets that just begged to be licked at or sucked. "I want to choke myself on it," he muttered, dragging his tongue over Robert's dick. The tip of his tongue - pointed and too long to not be questionable - darted over the slit, collecting the salty pre with a sweet little moan.

 

"Wanna make you cum down my throat.  _ Or _ would you rather make a mess of my  _ face _ , hm?" He could just imagine it. With how appealing Robert found the fact that Joseph's entire Christian Youth Minister thing was a thin veneer to cover up what kind of freak he was, having clear evidence of it in the form of spunk on his face would be one hell of a turn on. 

 

Joseph found it pretty hot, too.

 

"But  _ first _ -" He leaned back, pushing against the firm grip Robert had on his hair and grinned lasciviously, running his tongue over his lips. "- I'm going to need to hear a ' _ please _ ', darling."

 

Joseph's unabashed filthiness was so ridiculously hot that Robert could barely stand to hear them, muffled against his dick that Joseph continued to do little more than teasingly nuzzle. It was a maddening sensation having that hot, wet mouth so  _ close _ , feeling that humid breath against his throbbing cock, feeling that tongue (which Robert could swear felt strangely long and narrow) flick across his drooling slit. Robert groaned and curled his fingers in Joseph's hair, grip pulling the blonde strands taut and no doubt leaving them all the more in disarray.

 

Robert felt absolutely no desire to deny Joseph's demand -- he was not so proud or insecure that he felt himself above a bit of begging, least of all when Joseph had  _ earned  _ it. He was still reeling at the mental image of Joseph's mouth stuffed full of his cock, of finishing with his cum spattered all across that handsome face while Joseph stared, flushed and panting, up at him.

 

With another insistent tug, Robert peered at Joseph, relishing in the sight of him knelt down and staring wickedly back. Such an absolute, closeted  _ slut _ \-- Robert didn't think he'd ever been so turned on before.

 

" _ Please _ ," he said, with only a hint of impertinence. Robert looked more intent than anything. "I want to fuck that filthy mouth of yours."

 

Now  _ that _ was a confession that Joseph could appreciate. He moaned unabashedly at the filthy words that spewed from Robert's lips, breathless and eager to hear more. He  _ was _ a shameless slut; it was in his nature, but Robert didn't know that. He couldn't of possibly realized that Joseph was anything more than his sexually-repressed Christian neighbor, and Joseph was more than happy to play the part for now like it was some sort of kinky roleplay session. 

 

He was tempted to drag this out a little longer, to make Robert tighten the hold he had on his hair and  _ make _ him suck, but Robert had already asked nicely once, and Joseph's patience was thin enough to snap. 

 

He dragged his tongue from base to tip one last time in a teasing lick, then finally closed his lips around the head of Robert's dick, sucking it down until his nose bumped the fuzzy hair of Robert's stomach. It was  _ thick _ , filling his mouth until musk and salt was all that Joseph could taste and flooded the back of his throat with thick drops of pre. Joseph swallowed it down with a sweet little moan and bracketed his palm around Robert's hips just for something to hold on to, pulling off with a lewd, wet slurp and peering up at Robert. 

 

"You taste  _ amazing _ ," he muttered, letting the tip bump against his cheek and leave a smear of precum on the skin before he tilted his chin and swallowed it down again. 

 

_ Fuck _ , Joseph really was a shameless slut. It was one thing to blow a man he was only just beginning to know in the living room of his family's home with his children (hopefully still) fast asleep upstairs. It was another thing to blow him with such reckless abandon, slurping lewdly and swallowing every last inch of Robert's dick down like he was well-practiced at this. Perhaps he was, after all. Perhaps both he and Mary were fucking other people in the side -- Robert wouldn't be altogether surprised if they had some kind of arrangement going on. That might explain why it hadn't taken much convincing to get Joseph on his knees 

 

Robert wasn't complaining. He was quite a fan of the visual -- far better than any adult DVD he'd ever watched, maybe even better than any blowjob he'd ever gotten. Joseph sucked dick like it was his job, or some kind of sworn duty. Maybe it was, judging by the  _ look _ he was giving Robert; those strangely dark eyes of his were unblinking as they peered up at him, intent and  _ hungry _ as if the generous mouthful he had wasn't somehow enough to sate him.

 

So, Robert took it upon himself to give Joseph a little more.

 

Still gripping Joseph's hair, Robert pressed his face down into his groin at the same time that his hips rocked upward, fucking himself into the wet, tight heat of his mouth. His cock throbbed, drooling more pre onto Joseph's tongue and down the back of his throat, but Robert gave him very little time to swallow before he was fucking in again, and again, each time relishing in the clench around his dick and the guttural moans his rough treatment dragged out of Joseph. Or was Robert the one moaning....?

 

" _ Fuck yes _ , you feel so good," he panted, running his thumb along Joseph's spit-slick chin and tracing the outline of his mouth where it stretched around the impressive girth of his dick. "Such a good little cocksucker, aren't you?"

 

Were it not for the fact that his mouth was full, Joseph might've said something in response to Robert's breathless, filthy praise. He hummed, instead, and swallowed what he could around the thick length down his throat while the rest dribbled from the corners of his mouth, leaving his chin a mess of spit and pre. Robert didn't seem to care - liked it, even - and dragged his fingers through it all the same, rubbing the mess more firmly into Joseph's skin as he traced the seal between Joseph's lips and his own dick. 

 

Joseph groaned. His own dick hung heavy between his legs, neglected in favor of the sloppy blowjob he was giving, but it still demanded his attention, twitching and staining the bottom edge of his polo with pre every time Robert pulled him down and slowly fed him every fat inch of his cock. 

 

By the time Robert built to a steady rhythm, there were tears stinging the corners of Joseph's eyes. He blinked them away and peered up at Robert, cheeks hollowed out and the seal of his lips breaking occasionally with a lewd slurp and a breathless swallow. 

 

One hand slid down from where his nails dug into the meat of Robert's thigh and curled instead around his own dick, fingers pinching at the base in an effort to provide some measure of relief - or at least to stave off potential orgasm. Joseph still wanted to get Robert bent over the couch before the night was out, after all. 

 

Even had Joseph  _ tried _ to deny that, there was nothing he could possibly say to convince Robert that it wasn't true. He was greedy in how he sucked cock, always taking every last inch and slurping around it like he wanted to somehow swallow more still, ever insatiable such that Robert almost couldn't keep pace. He bobbed Joseph up and down his shaft at a far rougher pace than most of his previous lovers had been able to handle, much less so vocally  _ enjoyed,  _ and Joseph was seemingly unfazed aside from the occasional hum or lewd-sounding gurgle.

 

Between the sounds Joseph was making, the visual, and the hot clench of his mouth, Robert knew he wouldn't last long. He could already feel his balls tightening and his cock throbbing at every gulp and spasm of Joseph's throat. He twisted his fingers tighter in those (by now very messy) blonde tresses and  _ growled _ , bobbing Joseph's head harder and fucking up into him so that his groin was slapping against Joseph's chin at a steady clip.

 

" _ Fuck,  _ gonna cum on that pretty face of yours," Robert said, voice deep and smoky and clearly strained from an impending orgasm. "Bet you'd fucking love that. Bet you love being treated like the nasty little slut you are, don't you? Must get tiring pretending to be  _ pious _ all the time."

 

He chuckled breathlessly and suddenly pulled Joseph off his cock after one last pulse of his hips, leaving him to gag and swallow his spit while Robert took himself in hand and furiously jerked off.

 

It was  _ exhausting _ . Worse still was the fact that Joseph had play both his and Mary's parts - always making up excuses for her whereabouts and staving off the rumor mill before it had a chance to churn out whatever nasty little tidbits it could about his  _ lush  _ of a wife. Sometimes, all Joseph wanted was to let go of his inhibitions and his responsibilities and suck a nice, thick dick. 

 

He let Robert pull away, eyes dark, glassy with unshed tears as he opened them and peered up to watch the quick jerk of Robert's hand over his own dick, taking the few moments he was given to catch his breath and collect the pre that had gathered at the corners of his mouth. This was exactly what he wanted, if only for the evening (though hopefully, if things went well, for a lot, lot longer), so when Robert  _ finally  _ came, Joseph made a show of it, catching the first few drops of spunk across the bridge of his nose and the high arches of his cheeks. The rest dribbled down his lips, catching on his chin and leaving him with little choice but to shuffle closer like some desperate  _ slut  _ in order to get his mouth back around the head of Robert's dick. He swallowed what he could until his mouth met the tight  _ o  _ of Robert's fingers, then sucked until Robert flinched away, oversensitive and spent. 

 

Joseph finally let his softening dick go, leaning back with a self-satisfied smirk that showed off too many, too-sharp teeth. "Did you  _ like  _ that, Robert?" His voice was too deep (a result of the rough treatment, surely), and when he blinked, for just a moment, it looked as though a third lid crossed over his eyes, there and gone again like a mirage. 

 

"Because we're not done, yet. Don't get  _ too  _ comfortable." 

 

If Robert was capable of more coherent thought, he might have seriously wondered why Joseph sounded and  _ looked _ so fleetingly different. There were moments when he could have sworn those eyes were pitch-black rather than blue, that teeth were too long and jagged, that Joseph's tongue was too long, that his eyelids were somehow changed. But those moments came and went so quickly that his lust-drunk, distracted mind barely noticed them, far more absorbed in the orgasm that ripped through his body, and the oh-so-satisfying sight of his cum landing in thick splatters along Joseph's cheeks and across his lips. He looked like a porn star, like this, still on his knees and blearily chasing Robert's dick with his mouth as if afraid to waste a single drop of his spend. When Robert had squeezed out the last of his orgasm and had given his cock one last couple, aborted strokes, Joseph swallowed him down again as though to lick him clean. Robert allowed it, relishing in the visual of Joseph, cum-soaked and flushed, as he lazily mouthed and sucked at his softening dick. When it inevitably grew too acutely oversensitive, Robert pushed him away with a grunt and then sank against the sofa for a moment, suddenly feeling very much like sleeping or smoking, but undecided as to which he would prefer in that moment.

 

Joseph didn't give him an opportunity to choose. Robert blinked down at him, then gave his lips a slow, suggestive lick. He figured he knew what Joseph was getting at, and far be it for Robert to accept a night on a couch and a mind-blowing blowjob without doing a little something in return. He wasn't generally a selfish lover, at least not where it counted.

 

"You want tit for tat, huh?" He shifted to the edge of the sofa and, rather than give Joseph a chance to respond to this, yanked him up by the collar of his shirt and into a deep, messy kiss. It didn't matter that Joseph's mouth tasted like his cum -- in fact, if anything, that made it  _ better _ .

 

Joseph was hauled up by the collar of his shirt before he could respond, but it was all well and good when Robert caught his mouth in a messy, biting kiss. He bit right back, nipping along Robert's bottom lip, and while he usually made an effort to be careful, when he was like this, a few desperate nibbles resulted in the taste of blood thick and heady on his tongue right alongside the cum. Joseph groaned, relishing in the coppery tang, and buried claws in Robert's hair just to keep him close, tugging the errant curls into an even bigger mess than Robert already kept them. 

 

It was like he'd never seen a hairbrush, honestly. 

 

Only when Joseph needed to breathe - when his pointed tongue had traced Robert's teeth and lapped up the little bit of blood along the seam of his lips - did he finally pull away, panting hard. He scraped his nails, neatly-manicured and pristine, down the front of Robert's chest, through the thick rug of hair and past where his dick rested limp against his thigh, careful not to touch him there. Instead, he hooked his palms under Robert's thighs and hauled him towards the edge of the couch, grinning wickedly as he pulled Robert's ass off the cushion. 

 

"I  _ told  _ you, Robert -" he rumbled, ducking down to bury his face in the crook of Robert's thigh, where the skin was soft and thin and perfect for bruising. "- I want to  _ fuck  _ you." 

 

Robert wasn't sure where he'd gotten the idea that all Joseph would be interested in was a bit of mutual oral; he'd outright  _ said _ he wanted to bend Robert over the couch, along with a laundry list of other filthy suggestions that Robert had shivered at but hadn't accepted as being more than dirty talk. Now, he saw he was wrong -- and had perhaps underestimated just how horny but determined Joseph was.

 

He'd also underestimated just how  _ sharp _ those teeth of his were. Robert could still taste blood on his tongue when Joseph eventually broke from the kiss, and he ran his tongue tentatively across his lip, which still stung from where one of Joseph's teeth had caught on the skin and torn with such surprising ease. His eyes looked black again when Robert peered down at him, but he was still cloudy-minded enough from his orgasm to not pay the sight much mind, far more interested in what Joseph was planning to do as he dragged Robert to the edge of the sofa and dappled kisses along his inner thigh. His dick, still soft and spent, twitched a little at the warmth of Joseph's breath and the brush of something sharp (were those really Joseph's teeth?) along his skin, but he kept still, only going so far as to place a hand on Joseph's head in case Robert felt the need to yank him away -- or pull him closer.

 

"You want to fuck me in your living room," Robert said, with a cocked eyebrow and an expression that read both surprised and a bit amused. It was the sort of risky thing  _ Robert _ enjoyed, but he hadn't pinned Joseph for someone who liked to push the limits when his reputation might be at stake. Just another way he'd underestimated his 'good Christian neighbor', it seemed.

 

"Are you going to let me suck your dick first?" he asked, giving Joseph's hair a playful tug as he felt his mouth begin to inch lower. He wouldn't mind having some time to recover from his orgasm, and Robert liked the sound of  _ getting choked _ .

 

"I want to fuck you in _ a lot _ of places," Joseph clarified, tipping his head back into the fingers that wove through his hair. Robert seemed particularly fixated on making a mess of him, and Joseph wasn't about to deny him that luxury; especially not when the cum cooling on his chin and the sweat dappling the crevice between his shoulder-blades made him feel  _ filthy _ . He let Robert drag his nails across his scalp and rumbled out a pleased, guttural little moan, lashes fluttering and expression far too content for a man who'd spent the better part of half an hour on his knees on a hardwood floor. 

 

"But we can start with the living room," he finished after a few seconds of heady silence, dragging his hands along the outside of Robert's thighs. Once he reached the swell of his ass, Joseph pushed himself off the floor, biceps straining as he hauled Robert up and switched their positions in a move that was both practical and  _ showy _ . Robert ended up in his lap, straddling his hips with Joseph's dick nudging persistently against his stomach, and Joseph, with his grin a little too smug and a little too pointed, dragged Robert down into another one of those messy, breath-taking kisses. 

 

When they pulled apart, both panting and hazy-eyed, Joseph finally let Robert slide off, watching him settle on his knees with a hungry look and the dart of his tongue across his bottom lip. 

 

"Didn't think you'd be so  _ eager  _ to suck me off, Robert." 

 

Joseph didn't exactly look like someone who could haul another adult man off his feet with apparent ease. But then, looks were clearly deceiving, and Robert was less and less surprised with every new revelation that there was more to Joseph than met the eye. Besides, he wasn't exactly a mountain of a man. He hovered on the lower end of average height, and his diet of primarily whiskey didn't exactly lend itself to building lean muscle mass. 

 

Not to say that Joseph's strength wasn't  _ impressive -- _ it was, and when Robert landed on his lap, it was with wide eyes and raised eyebrows that made clear his shock at being manhandled so freely. He had a clever remark on his tongue, but before he had a chance to open his mouth, Joseph was kissing him breathless and all words were promptly forgotten.

 

When at last Robert could speak again, he elected not to. Instead, licking his lips (which still smarted from where Joseph had been biting them), he slid off Joseph's lap and onto the carpeted floor. His hands gripped Joseph's thighs, nudging them apart and dragging him closer to the edge of the sofa so that Robert could make himself at home between his spread knees. There, he pressed a few lazy kisses to the insides of those surprisingly smooth and hairless thighs, working his way slowly upward until his face was buried against Joseph's straining dick. 

 

"You didn't think I'd be eager to do this?" he echoed, throwing Joseph a smug grin as he leaned in to lave his tongue lazily along the length of his cock. It was more of a tease than anything, and judging by the way Robert was seemingly content to lean his head against the side of Joseph's thigh and practically  _ nuzzle _ his groin, he was clearly in no real rush to get to the main proceedings. "Well, we can't all be greedy, cock-hungry  _ sluts _ , Joseph."

 

"You look like you're damn  _ good  _ at it, though." Joseph couldn't deny being slutty, not with the way he'd gone down on Robert just a short while prior. But Robert, too, wasn't exactly being shy about getting in close and personal with Joseph's dick. Joseph shivered when the heat of Robert's breath washed over him, tipping his head back against the couch cushion just to save himself from the lewd visual that the man between his thighs made. 

 

"Unless that's all  _ talk _ , I mean." He doubted it, honestly. Robert wouldn't of been down there, nosing persistently against his thigh, if he wasn't at  _ least  _ committed to giving Joseph a blow, and for all that his patience was normally legendary (with four kids and Mary, it had to be), Joseph had just about plum ran out. His fingers threaded through Robert's hair, tight enough to make a point without being painful, though after a few moments even he was left to hiss something unintelligible (was it even English), and tug Robert a little closer. 

 

" _ C'mon _ , Robert. Show me what you've got." 

 

The harsh tug at his hair had Robert groaning and pitching forward, eyes rolling backward in their sockets and mouth falling open at the pleasurable sting in his scalp. Though his dick was still spent, he felt a rush of warmth that settled low in his stomach and prompted him to give Joseph's cock another teasing lap.

 

"I should be making you beg," he said, grumbling with suppressed laughter as his statement was met with another sharp yank of his hair. Robert buckled at this, growling and digging his blunt nails into Joseph's thighs before finally,  _ finally _ , lapping his way to the head of Joseph's stiff cock and taking it into his mouth. If he was a more patient man, he probably would have coaxed Joseph into really begging for it -- but he wasn't, and Robert was far more interested in seeing how long it would take him to get Joseph to squirm and tug at his hair like it was his lifeline.

 

So, he wasted no time in suckling at the glans and then slowly swallowing every inch that he reasonably could without choking. Joseph was longer than he, but not quite as thick, and Robert was admittedly not in practice; Still, he had the basics down well enough and the eagerness to match; he wrapped a hand around the base of Joseph's dick and stroked him in time to the bobbing of his head, then finally breaking the seal with a wet, lewd-sounding  _ pop _ .

 

Robert peered up at Joseph, still smirking despite the reddish flush to his face and the spit already slicking his lips as they hovered scant centimeters away from his dick.

 

"You been fantasizing about this, too,  _ Father _ ?" he teased, tilting his head against Robert's thigh and giving his dick a few slow, languid strokes. "Is 'Father' too formal? Maybe I should start calling you daddy instead."

 

It was a joke -- or at least, it was intended as one, but once the word left his lips Robert felt like maybe it worked a little  _ too _ well...

 

Well, that was unexpected. Joseph hadn't expected that Robert would like the hair-pulling  _ so  _ much, but maybe he should have, considering how well Robert had responded to all the other small abuses now dotting his body in bruises and scrapes. So Joseph did it again, yanking a little harder until Robert retaliated with the sharp sting of nails against his thighs.

 

Joseph hissed, finally loosening his tight grip on those unruly strands and relishing the lingering ache that was left over after Robert, too, eased up. He'd have plenty of bruises and scratches to commemorate the night with, though Joseph couldn't find it within himself to feel guilty about any of them. It wasn't like  _ Mary  _ ever saw him naked anymore. 

 

"Mn, I didn't think you'd have the patience for it," he murmured when Robert finally gave up the pretense and closed that hot, wet mouth around him. Joseph sank into the cushions with a content sigh, twitching up into Robert's mouth each time a greedy little suck had him coating the other man's tongue in pre. For a while, he let Robert do whatever he wanted, carding his fingers through the man's hair and giving it the occasional tug until Robert finally pulled away. 

 

He snorted, the laugh making him twitch up into the fist wrapped around him, and shot Robert a wicked smirk, unsure if the man was serious but more than willing to go along with a bit of dirty talk. 

 

"Is that what you like?" he asked, dragging Robert back towards his dick with a hand wrapped around the back of his neck, claws digging into the sensitive divot at the base of his skull. "Well, Robert,  _ daddy's  _ waiting." 

 

Truth be told, Robert had never really imagined that calling another man 'daddy' in bed would do anything for him, but somehow -- at least with Joseph -- it kind of  _ worked _ . He had been on the receiving end of the title a few times before, and he'd been content to feed into the fantasy however much his partner wanted him to, but he had never actually felt any desire to say it himself. It usually felt too strange, too  _ forced _ , but in this instance...

 

Well, Robert wasn't about to confess that it was for any reason other than mocking or irony that he was playing along.

 

So, he said nothing at Joseph's teasing invitation, settling instead for doing exactly as he was asked. He met Joseph's gaze as he moved closer, at first taking a moment to lap at the swollen head until it was glistening with spit, before finally returning to swallowing Joseph down with a rhythmic bobbing of his head. He knew how to give good blowjobs, regardless of whether or not he could get every last inch into his mouth. With Joseph, a fist around the base of his dick was a necessity, but with it pumping in counterpoint to his mouth, Robert was sure it felt just as good. He slurped up spit and pre with every downstroke, and gagged occasionally when Joseph's hips involuntarily (or voluntarily?) jerked upward. It was somehow made all the more filthy in wake of being told that  _ daddy _ was waiting for this -- that Robert was responding with such eager obedience was a bit unusual, for him, but also surprisingly a turn-on. Who would have thought?

 

"That's a  _ good _ boy," Joseph murmured, voice barely above a rumbling, deep-throated whisper and containing none of the patronizing tone such statements usually held. In fact, he sounded completely genuine -  _ proud _ , even - over how quickly Robert swallowed him down, and especially without a fuss. For some minutes, Joseph left Robert to slurp and suck messily at his dick, jerking his hips up only when those teeth set against the sensitive underside of his glans or when Robert squeezed at the base of his dick, milking him for thick drops of pre that mixed with spit and left the corners of Robert's mouth slick and glossy.

 

It was  _ good _ , and Joseph might've been content to finish as Robert did - down his throat and all over the bridge of his nose - but he had  _ other _ plans. 

 

In fact, when Joseph felt himself start to get dangerously close after Robert took him too deep and choked a little too harshly, he tightened his grip on those unruly curls and forcibly pulled him off, watching with a smug grin as the tip of his dick left a shiny trail down Robert's chin where it smeared over his skin. 

 

" _ Fuck _ , you're good."  And maybe he was laying it on a little thick, but Robert seemed to like the swearing and Joseph was never a man to withhold deserved praise. He dragged Robert back into his lap and caught him in a kiss, catching both wrists in clawed fingers before Robert got the bright idea to use them for more teasing. 

 

Robert tasted like pre, salty and thick on his tongue, and Joseph kissed him until they were both panting, glassy-eyed and pink-cheeked. 

 

"Still want to fuck you," he admitted when he'd moved away, dropping a kiss to Robert's bared shoulder and leaving another mark above his collarbone. 

 

Hearing Joseph cuss and spew filth was such an inexplicable turn-on that Robert was content to keep playing along with this somewhat unexpected twist in their dirty talk. Besides, there was something surprisingly arousing about being fed so much praise, perhaps because it sounded so genuine and awestruck and also a little  _ paternal.  _ The latter wasn't something Robert had anticipated liking as much as he did, but then, he'd never been one to shy away from kink or spontaneity in sex. 

 

He went without resistance or complaint when Joseph suddenly dragged him from the floor by a fistful of his hair and kissed him fiercely. He didn't seem to care about the fact that Robert's mouth tasted like tequila and spunk, but then, Joseph didn't taste much different and Robert had no qualms returning the kiss with equal vigor. His inability to use his hands was a minor gripe; Robert had an easy enough time grinding his hips down against Joseph's, so that his ass bumped and pressed against his spit-slick cock. Though his own was still hanging soft and heavy between his hairy thighs, Robert felt a jolt of pleasure run straight through it upon hearing that Joseph still wanted to fuck him. It was partly hearing him say something so vulgar, but also because, quite frankly, Robert had been  _ itching  _ for a good fuck for a while now. 

 

"That right?" he said, a hint of a smug smile on his lips. Robert tugged against the grip binding his wrists, but Joseph was strong and Robert felt strangely ill at ease with the thought of testing just how strong he truly was. Something told him it was more than he could overpower, and the thought was equal parts thrilling and unnerving. Robert wasn't used to being so outmatched, just as he wasn't used to his partners being as unabashedly dirty as Joseph was. It was a nice change in pace, unexpected though he was. 

 

"How do you plan on fucking me? By bending me over the back of the sofa?" Still wearing the same smug smile, Robert pressed a kiss against Joseph's smooth jawline, dragging his teeth as though debating whether or not to leave a bruise here to match the ones painting Joseph's inner thighs. "You're probably going to have to do something to keep me quiet. Wouldn't want to wake up your family."

 

" _ Yeah _ ." It was, and didn't change his mind any when Robert rolled his hips back and caught the tip of his dick against the tight clench of his hole. Joseph wanted to fuck him, and he'd be damned if a little bit of teasing would keep him from reaching his goal. Still, he couldn't help but groan when his cock slid messily between Robert's asscheeks, burying his face in Robert's shoulder just to muffle some of the sound. 

 

He swore when Robert did it again, then clamped one hand around his thigh, claws biting into the meat just to keep the other man  _ still  _ for a second. Joseph had patience, but it was neither endless nor easy to muster when someone was squirming in his lap, and he needed a moment just to catch his breath, panting harshly against sweat-damp skin while he collected himself and then proceeded to mouth another mark into Robert's chest. 

 

"Just like  _ this _ , actually. You look good in my lap." And would give Joseph a handsome view of Robert's flushed face and sweat-dappled torso. He barked a quiet laugh at the suggestion, and after a moment seemingly thinking about how he might shut Robert up, pried his nails from where they bit into Robert's thigh, bringing his fingers up and pressing two to the seam of the other man's lips. "I'm sure we'll think of something. Now be good and  _ suck _ ." He had lube somewhere - condoms, too, either Mary's or his own from when he'd bought a pack on a whim not so long ago - but the visual that Robert made, his arms caught behind his back and his lips wrapped around something long and hard, was too good to give up. 

 

Robert wasn't typically one to follow orders -- not because he had a problem with authority, but-- Well, okay, maybe he had a  _ bit _ of an issue with authority, preferring to do as he wished and to bend the rules as it suited him. At the same time, he could be obedient when it meant getting what he wanted, and getting fucked by Joseph on his sofa just so happened to be the itch Robert was aching to have scratched. The feeling was clearly mutual, too, judging by the way Joseph hissed and moaned with every teasing roll of Robert's hips. He wanted this --  _ desperately _ \-- and if Robert felt so inclined, he was sure he could turn the tables, have Joseph  _ begging  _ for it...

 

Instead, he decided to play along.

 

"Shame. Here I thought you were going to pull out a ball gag," Robert said with a breathless little huff that approached laughter, but wasn't quite; he honestly wouldn't have put it past Joseph at this point to have an extensive collection of kinky sex toys, though he  _ would _ have been surprised if Joseph had any tucked away in his living room. It didn't seem that way, though, and Robert could tell that Joseph's patience was already wearing thin by the way his fingers pressed insistently against his lips, as though considering whether or not to demand entry rather than simply ask for it. Robert was curious to see if that was something Joseph might do if pushed to the limits of his self-restraint, but he figured it was something he could test some other night. For now, he teased Joseph with a considering hum for only a few seconds longer before taking his proffered fingers into his mouth all the way to the knuckles, suckling at them in much the same way he had just been with Joseph's cock. If Robert really wanted, he had a hand free to start jerking Joseph off again, but he figured it would be better to leave him mostly untouched, to rile him up if only to see just how desperate he would become.

 

And besides, Robert didn't want him cumming too soon.

 

So, he kept his ass pressed up against Joseph's cock but otherwise ceased the steady grind of his hips, settling instead in his lap as he swallowed down Joseph's fingers. The thought occurred to Robert that the nails felt a bit sharp and too-long, but for now he was content to ignore this, more interested in watching the changes in Joseph's expression as he more or less finger-fucked Robert's mouth.

Joseph  _ did  _ have an impressive collection of sex toys, tucked away on an Amazon wishlist, that is. He wouldn't dare bring such a thing into his home, not where his nosy children could find it nor where Mary would definitely come across something or other and probably make a crass, public spectacle of the entire thing. 

 

He had some rope, but it was strictly for boating (and  _ practice _ , when he was out on the water with no one but himself for miles around), dirty and starting to fray at the ends. Everything else, thus far, was either improvised or still tucked away in the back of his mind whenever he was left alone with nothing but his imagination and the patter of hot water down his back. 

 

Still, Robert swallowed his fingers down with very little fuss at all, taking them between his lips and lapping sloppily at the digits as though they were an extension of Joseph's cock. They  _ felt  _ like it, when Robert really got into the groove, each little suckle going straight to Joseph's dick and spreading in hot spikes throughout his body. Joseph bit his lip, exhaling sharply in response to the teasing flick of Rob's tongue over the tip of his middle finger, then grew more proactive, emboldened by the other man's enthusiasm. 

 

He pumped his fingers, slowly at first, scraping one nail over Robert's tongue and then proceeding to catch that wily appendage between both fingers, pinching it with a smirk and a little tug. 

 

"Maybe if you put in a request  _ nicely _ , I'll get more than just a ball gag," he murmured, letting Robert go finally. He brought his spit-slick fingers down, dragging a wet trail over Robert's chest and down his stomach before dipping a little lower, between his legs and past the dark skin of his taint. 

 

"You're tight." Even without pushing a finger in, Joseph could tell, the clench of Robert's pucker in response to the gentlest of petting like a vice. "I have lube in the bathroom. Stay put while I get it." 

 

'More than just a ball gag' sounded  _ very _ promising, and Robert was sorely tempted to ask as nicely as was required to get Joseph to show him all that he had to offer. He ended up sidetracked, instead, by the saliva-coated fingers tracing down his sternum and nudging behind his balls, and couldn't help but tense when they brushed against his hole. It had been a while since he'd had anything more than a couple fingers in his ass -- several months, at least -- and considering Joseph's size, Robert admittedly felt a little daunted. This was perhaps the only reason why he didn't protest when Joseph pushed him off his lap in order to go and fetch the lube, though Robert still made a nuisance of himself, dragging Joseph in by the chin for a sloppy kiss that was more teeth than anything.

 

When at last Robert rolled off to lounge, naked, on the sofa, it was with a lazy self-satisfied smirk and a parting slap to Joseph's ass. It was a particularly nice ass, as smooth and intriguingly hairless as most of the rest of Joseph, and Robert fantasized not for the first time about spreading those cheeks with his thumbs, about sinking his dick into that tight, hot hole. He wished he hadn't cum already so that his cock would get hard enough tonight to do just that, but whiskey and age had one-up on him, and Robert had no real qualms settling for bouncing in Joseph's lap, instead.

 

Still, he wondered: Had Joseph ever been fucked before? Had he even ever slept with a man before? It certainly  _ seemed _ that way, what with how confidently he carried himself right now, but not knowing somehow made the fantasy all the more thrilling. Here Robert was, fooling around with the neighborhood youth minister. The married, presumably closeted youth minister, with a perfect ass and a secret taste for kink.

 

It seemed too much like a pipe dream to be a reality, but there was a moment -- a brief one, quickly pushed away thanks to the tequila and Joseph's speedy return -- where Robert remembered who Joseph was married to, whose kids were fast asleep upstairs, who might find him in the morning disheveled and hungover and sleeping on her couch. He possessed just enough decency to feel a jolt of guilt and a familiar sense of self-loathing at this realization, but he was quick to stifle it when Joseph came back into the living room with a tube in one hand. He could have asked, right then, the question that was still burning in his mind:  _ "Have you ever done this before?" _ . But Robert felt it was better if he didn't know, both for the fantasy and because it might only add more weight to the guilt he was trying to ignore.

 

Instead, he wordlessly leaned forward to grab at Joseph's shirt when he came within arm's reach, and tugged him down close enough to trail his mouth along a clean-shaven jaw.

 

Joseph retreated with a parting kiss and a sharp yelp, more startled than pained when Robert's hand connected firmly with his ass. He had the decency, at least, to clamp a hand over his mouth, suddenly reminded that he was in his own living room, in his own home, as he navigated down a short hallway and to the downstairs bathroom in the dim gloom. The only illumination came from the kitchen light, still on after he'd wrapped Robert's hand, but Joseph picked his way past a tall floor vase and a side table lined against the wall without the aid of his vision, slipping into the bathroom a moment later. 

 

A quick glance in the mirror served to show him his sorry-looking state: Shirt wrinkled, hair ruffled, flecks of dried cum on his chin while his dick, flagging without any stimulation but still stubbornly at half-mast, poked out from under the hem of his polo. He could the guilt, like poison, gathering at the base of his neck, and in response he opened and shut the medicine cabinet door with a little too much force, wincing as it clicked loudly into place. 

 

He was about to fuck a stranger in his own home, while his children slept upstairs. 

 

What kind of father did that even make him? Not a good one, by all accounts. 

 

He couldn't even bring himself to feel guilt about what this would do to his already-rocky marriage. Mary had made it abundantly clear that she didn't care; their marriage was for the sake of convenience, because she couldn't get rid of him and because he wasn't willing to leave his kids behind, and there was frankly no love lost between them. 

 

It was the kids he worried about, but with a tube of lube in his hand and Robert splayed out across the couch looking debauched and  _ fuckable _ , even that concern faded. 

 

They could get this cleaned up by morning, surely. 

 

Joseph flicked the lights off in the bathroom and didn't look at himself again, returning shortly after to the living room with a smile that was a little too forced and shoulders a little too tense. 

 

That faded, when he slid between Robert's thighs again and kissed him, dropping the lube on the cushions while he re-familiarized himself with the warm body under his own. At one moment, they shifted back into position - Robert on top of him, kissing him sloppy and rough - with Joseph's hands curled around his thighs and his dick back to nudging persistently against Rob's skin. 

 

"Y'look good," he murmured quietly against Robert's throat, what concerns he'd had during that brief lapse of logic in the bathroom fading with the smell of cigarette smoke and cum that clung thickly to Robert's neck. The bottle of lube clicked open, thick and cool on his fingers but warming quickly when applied to the sensitive skin behind Robert's balls. Joseph rubbed him there, teased his hole with slow, careful passes until it relaxed, until he could push one finger inside and bite a groan into Robert's shoulder, shivering at the tight heat that engulfed the single digit. 

 

Robert hadn't failed to notice the tension Joseph carried in his shoulders and the trepidation in his expression when he returned from the bathroom, but he knew better than to comment on it. In fact, he made a point to say nothing at all, for a long moment certain that that look on Joseph's face meant he was having second-thoughts, that he had perhaps come to his senses and decided (reasonably) that this affair was a bad idea.

But Joseph rejoined him on the couch soon enough, the tension melting as they kissed, slow and messy and with the rough scrape of teeth. Robert made himself comfortable again on Joseph's lap, and all at once thoughts of Mary and the heavy weight of guilt disappeared, relegated to the back corner of his mind where he might later return later with a bottle of Jack and few leftover aches from tonight. For now, he was content on  _ making _ those aches, on acquiring a few more bruises to relish when he was once again on his lonesome. Who knew if this was a one-time thing or not -- Robert figured it was safe to say that it  _ was _ .

That was fine. He had made a habit of keeping his lovers to one-time affairs. It made it easier not to get too attached, keeping it purely physical, purely about mutual pleasure and nothing more.

Which was what this was, of course; pleasure, and blowing off some steam in wake of their death-defying night out.

When they broke from the kiss, Robert was given only a moment to catch his breath before Joseph was making him gasp again, the drag of his teeth (still so mind-bogglingly  _ sharp _ ) sending a jolt down his spine. Still, he rolled his head to one side to present Joseph with more skin to explore with his wandering mouth, and rutted against his lap just to tease Joseph with a bit of friction. 

"Bet I'll look even better bouncing on that dick," Robert replied, but his smarmy grin was short-lived, falling away with a quiet hiss when the finger prodding at his ass finally pushed its way inside. It wasn't painful by any means, but it had been a while -- long enough that Robert had nearly forgotten what it felt like to have a thick-knuckled finger inside him, curling and twisting in a way that made his stomach jump and his breath catch in his chest. 

Robert would look so  _ handsome _ , bruised and wrecked and covered in the welts that Joseph's claws left behind. They'd wake up in the morning, and maybe Joseph would get a good look at them or maybe he wouldn't, but the important part was that he'd know they were there, sucked into the soft skin under his ear or in the L-shaped juncture of his shoulder. Robert might press his fingers to them, or count them, once he was in the privacy of his own home, and Joseph knew for a fact that they memory of salt and cheap cologne would linger on his tongue for a long many days to come. He lapped at it now, the point of his tongue tracing veins and the jutting tendons of Rob's jugular until he could latch his mouth to the underside of Robert's jaw, lips aching and rubbed pink where they pressed against unshaved stubble. 

"Oh, you  _ will _ ." Like one of the many porn stars Robert watched on his videos; a goddamned  _ professional _ . He was still tight, though, and for all that Joseph could be rough he didn't want to hurt Robert more than Robert wanted it. So he took his time, sawing the one finger in and out of Robert's tight hole with all the patience of a  _ saint _ , until Robert's body grew loose, until the man relaxed and the clench of his body turned into a smooth, easy glide punctuated by the wet squelch of lube and quiet, breathless praise that Joseph bit into his chest. 

"God, you feel  _ amazing _ ," he purred, clicking open the lube again with his free hand. "You're going to feel so damn  _ good  _ on my cock, Robert; you've got the most perfect ass.  _ Shit _ , and the way you  _ look  _ right now? You like that, honey? Ready for another one?" He didn't wait long for a confirmation, ring finger already prodding curiously where the rim of Robert's hold stretched and clung to his middle finger. Joseph pressed it in slow, tugging Robert closer with his other arm slung around his waist and mouth tracing the contours of his prominent ribs. 

Hearing Joseph talking dirty would take some getting used to -- and  _ shit _ , could Robert ever. Though he'd never been a fan of small talk, he'd always had a soft spot (and a very  _ hard _ spot) for partners who mouthed off in the bedroom. The effect was tenfold coming from someone like Joseph, who didn't say the Lord's name in vain, let alone curse any other time. Maybe if they'd spent longer than a few days together, Robert might have wondered if he'd had an effect on Robert --  _ corrupted  _ him, or something. But no, Joseph had clearly just been hiding this wild and wicked side of him all this time.

True to form, Joseph continued spewing filthy praises as he worked Robert's ass open with one finger. He barely had a chance to grunt an affirmative when he felt a second finger prodding against his rim, then pushing inside with agonizing slowness. The stretch ached but was also pleasant and familiar, reminding Robert of nerves he hadn't pleasured in a long while. Too long a while, actually. He might even be able to get off on this if Joseph managed to angle the steady jab of his fingers against his prostate, and he was already close to finding it now, especially when he curled them just-so.

Robert mouthed sloppily at Joseph's throat, cognizant enough not to leave any marks despite how desperately he wanted to sink his teeth in. It also meant he had no way of effectively smothering the grunts and quiet gasps that Joseph's fingers were beginning to drag out of him, but that was less of a matter of maintaining his cool demeanor and more about not waking anyone upstairs. If this was  _ his  _ living room -- if Joseph had only taken Robert up on his implicit offer, just the other day...

"You've been holding out on me, Jo'," Robert murmured, words slightly slurred and voice muffled against Joseph's shoulder. "Acting like some kinda neighborhood Saint, when really you're a filthy  _ sinner _ . Should've shown me your true colors sooner. I would've let you fuck me the first day we met if you led out with this."

Joseph laughed. Couldn't help it, really. Robert sounded so  _ eager  _ (if not a touch awed at the filth that had the capability of spewing from the neighborhood youth pastor's mouth) that it was nearly comical. Endearing, too, though Joseph was too busy working another hickey into Robert's throat to really tell him that. Instead, he sucked at a soft patch of skin and pistoned two fingers in and out of Robert's hole, growing impatient and desperate to replace them with his cock but unwilling to cut short on the prep. 

When he leaned away to inspect his handiwork, it was with dark eyes and the cherry-red slash of his mouth curled into a wicked smirk, showing off sharp teeth and a sharper tongue that darted out to wet his lips. "I take personal pride in being able to charm you  _ without  _ the filth." It would've been easy to lay it on thick that first afternoon. No one would've believed Robert if he'd told them - he was practically a nobody, brand new to their town and always wandering around with the heavy odor of stale whisky about him - but Joseph wasn't that kind of man. 

Frankly, he wasn't  _ this  _ kind of man, either. He should've been biding his time longer, should've waited a few more weeks, or months, before getting his hands on Robert's hirsute chest and the tight curve of his ass. But it was late and it'd been a while and Robert was so,  _ so  _ willing that Joseph had let his lingering adrenaline rush get the best of him, and here they were now, a third finger pushing into Rob's body and Joseph's fingers toying with the sensitive spots on either side of Robert's spine. 

"And I think the little bit of extra effort makes the payout  _ much  _ more satisfying." 

Robert might have argued that if he wasn't so indisposed; after all, he never had seen much point in being patient and rarely refrained from indulging himself when he could just skip right to the point. It was the same way he felt about small talk. Better to be direct, to avoid any unnecessary filler, and-- Alright, maybe he  _ was  _ just impatient. And a little greedy, too, because no sooner had Joseph pushed a third finger into his ass was Robert itching to feel the girth of his cock, instead. To hell with Joseph's talks of 'extra effort' -- what would be most satisfying to Robert, right then, was getting that rough pounding Joseph had (more or less) promised him.

"Fuck that," Robert slurred, grunting and pressing his ass against Joseph's palm when he felt those three fingers twist and writhe inside him. A bit of extra prep certainly wouldn't hurt, but Robert also didn't mind said hurt --  _ liked it, _ even. He'd had enough waiting. Already, Joseph's thorough stretching and exploration with his fingers had left Robert's dick a bit plumper where it hung between his thighs, not yet quite able to grow harder, but certainly still responding to the proceedings.

"C'mon. I'm ready." He punctuated the statement with another roll of his hips, this time grinding himself against Joseph's cock where it proudly stood, red and leaking, between them. "Get on with it. I wanna feel you."

Joseph gasped, the sudden, tight pressure against his dick making him shiver and bite his lip against an ungodly sound.  _ Fucking tease _ . Robert was squirming way too much, talking way too loudly, and frankly Joseph should've wrapped his free hand around the man's throat much earlier, he thought, reaching up to tuck his fingers under Robert's jaw with a vicious little hiss. 

"You're  _ ready  _ when I say you are," he muttered and squeezed, cutting off Robert's air before Robert could respond with some smartass comment. His fingers, in the meantime, continued to piston slowly in and out of Robert's hole, working him open with the steady squelch of lube and fleeting pressure against the raised bump of his prostate. Robert was starting to fill out against his thigh, which was at least a sign that Joseph was doing  _ something  _ that he liked. It wasn't likely that he'd be cumming again that night, but it was a pretty good indicator that Joseph hadn't crossed any lines with the hand still curled around Robert's neck, grip loosening briefly just to give him a chance to breathe before he tightened his hold again, giving Robert no chance to speak at all. 

_ Of course _ Joseph was in to choking -- it was as though he was going down a list of everything kinky and depraved one could possibly like in the bedroom and checking every one of them. Robert wasn't opposed in the least, and if anything it was his own fault for not figuring out sooner the many ways Joseph might decide to try shutting him up. 

It had been ages since last someone had choked him out, at any rate, but the feeling was still just as Robert remembered it. There was a fleeting moment of panic when he first felt that vise-like squeeze of Joseph's hand around his throat and found he couldn't swallow, much less breathe. His words escaped him in a wheeze, and his eyes stung with unshed tears as he felt Joseph's nails bite into his skin. It was a few moments before the lack of oxygen started to really go to his head, leaving Robert's world spinning and swimming around him. His hips stopped their constant rutting into Joseph's lap, and for a moment he was still, riding his momentary high. There was still that edge of panic -- what if Joseph didn't let go, what if Robert had (stupidly) fallen into bed with a maniac? -- but it was tempered by thrill, and before the former could take hold, Joseph let go and Robert instinctively gasped for air. His eyes were still leaking tears that he tried desperately to blink away, and his voice was raw, so much so that he paused to swallow and brace himself before he attempted to speak.

But he was never given the chance. No sooner had he gasped in another breath and opened his mouth did Joseph's hand clamp around his windpipe again, leaving Robert choking in a few desperate gulps before he found himself unable to breathe. His hand shot up to grasp at Joseph's palm, but he made no efforts to yank it away, instead digging his nails into the wrist as if to  _ keep _ it there. This was definitely one of the more effective ways of keeping Robert (mostly) quiet, and it was clear by the flush that crawled down his chest, from his peaked, hairy nipples to the fat length of his half-hard dick, that he was into. 

Unable to speak, Robert elected to throw Joseph a half-delirious grin, radiating smugness even as his eyes continued to water and his face continued to turn red. After all, distracted though he was by the fingers in his ass and around his throat, it didn't take much focus or willpower to wrap his free hand around Joseph's dick and slowly,  _ teasingly _ jerk him off.

If only Joseph had more hands, or a length of rope to stop the squirming, clever man in his lap from teasing him. He wanted Robert  _ still  _ (though a very large part of him definitely enjoyed the stimulation and the teasing), and he wanted to take this at his own pace, which was very difficult when Robert curled those callused, scar-dotted fingers around his dick and stroked him from base to tip. 

Joseph hissed an expletive into the air between them, retaliating with a hard squeeze. Robert would be left with a ring of fingertip bruises, oddly elongated and pricked with crescent moons at the ends as though instead of the usual, neatly-manicured nails Joseph had dug in with a vicious set of claws. "Impatient  _ slut _ ." But in all fairness, Robert was pretty well prepared. A little tight, still, but Joseph was willing to try and take it slow if only for the brief bliss of getting his dick inside Robert's hole. He eased his fingers out, instead clamping them lube-slick and sticky around Robert's wrist, and shoved his hand out of the way, grunting when the release of pressure had his dick twitching obscenely. 

"Should've put you on your knees, instead. It'd be  _ fitting _ ." With one hand, he urged Robert higher on his knees, until he lifted his ass up off his lap and Joseph could slide his dick between the tempting cleft of his ass. The hand wrapped around Robert's throat grew slack, thumb rubbing in slow, subconscious circles at the base of his jaw like a half-assed apology for the bruises that would undoubtedly be left behind. Robert had asked for them, though, even if he'd never voiced his request out loud, Joseph could still see the way he arched into every prick of pain and brief ache. 

It was part of the reason Joseph went along with teasing his dick against Robert's hole so quickly. He could've easily switched their positions and planted a knee between Robert's shoulderblades to keep him still and complacent while he fingered him until he was loose and  _ sloppy _ , but if Joseph liked a little sting, then surely the stretch when Joseph pressed inside with one slow, steady roll of his hips would be just as pleasant as the feeling of fullness that came when he was seated, buried to the hilt inside the obscene heat of Robert's body and biting more swears into the meat of Robert's shoulder. 

While it would shock most that Joseph was into all sorts of kinky shit in the bedroom, no one would have blinked to discover the same was true of Robert. That he liked being choked out and degraded wasn't likely to garner much surprise, either. Maybe that was why Joseph had wrapped his hand around Robert's neck without asking, why he'd called him a  _ slut _ completely unprompted. He knew Robert liked it, probably by the way his cock had filled out a little at each squeeze of his palm, or the way Robert had shuddered and briefly closed his eyes at the lewd slurs leaving Joseph's lips. He couldn't get hard again --  _ couldn't _ , not at this age, not after all the whiskey he'd imbibed this evening -- but damn if Robert didn't feel fucking incredible every time Joseph stole his breath away.

When he finally did start nudging his cock into Robert's slick, clenching pucker, it was very nearly  _ too  _ much. The stretch burned, and though Joseph's hand was no longer vise-like around Robert's throat, his eyes were still glistening and his breath still caught at the slow drag of his dick as it pushed inside inch by fat inch. It felt  _ good _ nonetheless, or at least Robert enjoyed the ache just as much as he'd enjoyed the bite of nails against his skin and the palm pressed against his windpipe. Pain could be just as  euphoric as pleasure, in the right context and quantity, and this --  _ this  _ was near-bliss.

" _ Shit  _ Jo' _ , _ " Robert slurred as Joseph bottomed out, no longer choked into complacent silence, though he was at least self-aware enough to hush his gravelly voice to a hiss. "Fuck  _ yes _ ." He let out a quiet, rough-sounding huff that might have been laughter then gave his hips an experimental roll. "C'mon. Gimme the ride of my life."

Robert felt  _ good _ . Tight and hot and clenching like a vice around the length of Joseph's dick so that Joseph was forced still just so that he could remember how to breathe. It was almost too-tight, in fact, and if not for the fact that Robert was clearly looking to egg him on further, Joseph might've been concerned about hurting the man. 

But no - Rob was fully on board with the proceedings, egging him on further and arching into it like a whore when Joseph gave a tentative roll of us hips. He was  _ shameless _ , and gorgeous, and Joseph rumbled as much into the sweat-damp crook of his neck, muttering filth in a voice too deep and gravelly for a man who supposedly never smoked a cigarette in his life. 

When he finally got his bearings - when he no longer felt like he would burst and make an embarrassment of himself - Joseph leaned back, tilting his chin up to watch Robert's face when he got his hands around those thickly-haired thighs and rocked his hips up. Robert bounced, forced up a few tight, sweet inches before sinking back down with a lewd slap and a moan between them that Joseph only belated realized had come from him. "Fuck -  _ fucking Christ, Rob  _ \- you feel so amazing," he hissed from between clenched teeth and did it again, starting at a slow, measured pace that had Robert's half-chub bobbing obscenely between them. 

There was something hilariously ironic about being fucked by a married youth minister in the dead of night while he freely used the Lord's name in vain -- in fact, it was almost unbelievable enough for Robert to question if any of this was actually happening. Maybe this was all part of some fucked-up dream. It'd explain the cryptid.

But then Joseph started bouncing him in his lap, thrusting up with a sharp slap of skin-on-skin every time Robert dropped, and the aching drag of his cock as it pulled out and slammed back inside was too viscerally  _ real _ for any of this to be in his head. Robert shifted his weight onto his knees and began to lift and drop his hips in time with Joseph, taking it slow at first as he adjusted to the girth of him. He felt so much bigger than he looked, stretching Robert's hole open in a way that it hadn't been in far too long, and making him feel full in a way that might have been unpleasant if every time his ass met Joseph's lap it wasn't accompanied by a hot, electric shock of pleasure. 

It wasn't long before Robert grew accustomed to that feeling, and soon enough he was greedy for it, and left impatient and wanting by the too-slow and too-steady bounce of Joseph's hips. He shifted his weight further onto his knees and, without any warning, began to roll and grind his hips at a far more aggressive pace.

"God yes," he groaned, and although Robert was flushed and panting, he still had it in him to throw Joseph a cheeky smirk as he continued to roughly fuck himself on the youth minister's cock. "S'good, Jo', but I think you can fuck me harder than this. Make me really  _ feel _ it."

" _ Fuck _ ." Robert wasn't going to let him just phone it in, was he? Not that Joseph had  _ planned  _ on it, but the way the other man rode him - pulling himself up onto his knees and rocking back like he wasn't getting nearly enough - made his dick twitch, threatening to put an end to their night before he had the chance to really get into it. Joseph clamped his hands down on Robert's thighs, stilling the persistent squirming with a growl muffled against Rob's throat, then dragged his claws up, over hairy skin and around his waist. 

"You're going to  _ feel  _ it," he promised, voice rough like gravel and fingers pinching bruises insistently into Robert's sides. "You're going to wake up tomorrow and remember every second of this." Every little ache and pain would be mapped plain to see across his skin, and Joseph was determined to make damn sure that Robert would walk away with reminders of their encounters that he could come back to for days to come. 

He adjusted his grip and braced his feet against the cool wood of the floor, heels slippery on the polished surface but catching on the edge of a decorative rug, then let Rob lift himself up, loosening his grip just long enough to feel the slow drag of Robert's ass until just the tip of his dick was pressed inside that clenching hole. Then he tightened his grip, fingers digging in where he still held Robert by the waist, and brought him down while simultaneously jerking his own hips up. It resulted in a  _ very  _ satisfying smack, his hips against the curve of Robert's ass, which he repeated, giving Robert no chance to catch his breath between each jerk of his hips until he'd built a steady rhythm. 

Getting Joseph to respond to his goading was so incredibly  _ easy _ , Robert wondered if he hadn't been planning to fuck him like this from the start. Probably. He clearly had a lot of pent-up sexual tension and aggression, and Robert certainly had no qualms with being Joseph's outlet. It had been far too long since he'd last been fucked with such vigor, and if not for the pleasant buzz from the tequila, he might not have been able to keep up with Joseph roughly pounding him from below. As it was, he had no choice but to white-knuckle the back of the couch when Joseph started to really go at it, every snap of his hips sending trembles down Robert's spine and forcing a harsh rasp from his chest while his half-hard cock bounced against his hairy stomach.

He'd definitely be feeling this in the morning. Hell, he already  _ could _ feel bruises freshly forming on his hips, and thighs, and throat, and shoulders, and everywhere else Joseph's teeth and nails had sunk in. Robert was sure his ass would be sore, too; the stretch of Joseph's cock as it jackhammered into him still ached, coupled though it was with the pleasant buzz of tequila and a teasing hint of pleasure every time the fat head dragged against his prostate.

_ "Fuck yes,"  _ Robert panted, squeezing his eyes shut and tilting his head back so he could gasp in ragged breaths of air. His free hand slipped between them to find his cock, still slick from earlier, and he began to jerk himself off frantically in time to Joseph's rough fucking. It wasn't  _ quite _ enough, but it felt good all the same, and Robert could tell by the way Joseph started pounding into him harder that he appreciated the visual. "Yeah, that's it," he let out a gruff laugh and peered down at Joseph, bouncing himself in time to Joseph's thrusts. "You close,  _ daddy _ ?"

If asked later, Joseph wouldn't be able to pinpoint exactly what it was that finally brought him to the edge and then proceeded to fling him right off it. It could've been the clench of Robert's ass, tight like a velvet vice and clinging to his dick each time Robert pulled himself up on his knees. Could've been the visual, too - the way Rob arched his back and stroked his dick and panted sweet and ragged above him. It definitely could've been the ' _ daddy _ ,' hissed with all the other expletives and so fucking delicious to hear it made Joseph's balls ache. The whole thing was like out of some trashy porno, and in the end it didn't really matter what was the trigger. 

Joseph could feel it when he got close, the slap of his hips erratic another half dozen times before he was pulling Robert off his dick - off his lap entirely - and pushing him down into the couch cushions on his back. He twisted, planting his knee into the crook of Rob's armpit, and with a few quick jerks of his hand and a bitten-back groan came, the first splash of spunk hitting Robert squarely in the cheek. The rest went just about everywhere else: across Robert's lips, down the bridge of his nose, even as high as his brow, until those handsome features were coated in Joseph's release and Joseph himself was left panting, one hand brace against the back of the couch while the other weakly pumped his dick until even that grew uncomfortable. He let it fall away, and blinked the black from his eyes over the next few seconds, peering blearily over the mess he'd made while his teeth returned to his mouth and his tongue no longer pressed uncomfortably against the roof of his mouth. 

" _ Shit _ , Rob." Joseph couldn't deny the man looked good covered in spend, and he clearly didn't seem to mind, the way he basked in it now and definitely didn't seem to be gearing up to give Joseph a black eye. 

_ Still _ , it had been a little rude to cum on him without permission. 

Joseph carefully eased himself off Rob's chest and brushed his knuckles through some of the mess he'd left with a " _ Sorry _ ," not sounding terribly sorry at all and grimacing as he settled heavily on the couch. 

"That was...  _ phenomenal _ ." 

It was an entirely new experience being manhandled so easily; Robert wasn't used to his partners tossing him around like he was practically weightless. He wasn't exactly slight of build, and Joseph didn't  _ look _ like he should be strong enough to throw Robert onto the cushions mid-fuck, but his looks were clearly deceiving. Robert barely had a moment to register that he'd been unceremoniously thrown off Joseph's lap and tossed onto his back before Joseph was straddling his chest and fervently jerking himself off, mouth agape and face flushed a deep red. At least Robert had enough time to squeeze his eyes shut before the first spurt of cum landed across the bridge of his nose. He kept them closed until Joseph let out a ragged cuss and shifted off him, at which point Robert tentatively blinked up at the popcorn ceiling, well-aware of the smear of jizz sliding down his brow and of the slight gape of his empty-feeling ass. Joseph had the decency to swipe away at Robert's brow, at least, and while he hadn't had the courtesy to forewarn Robert before any of this, he couldn't find it in himself to be annoyed. Hell, if anything he  _ liked _ the spontaneity, liked being fucked dirty and left an aching mess. 

Robert scrubbed at his jaw and threw Joseph an exhausted, albeit toothy grin, taking a few moments to catch his breath and really sink into the couch cushions before he decided to speak. 

"Yeah... Haven't been fucked like that in a  _ long _ time," he confessed, still splayed out naked and unselfconsciously beneath Joseph with no real intent to find his clothes or stumble off to the bathroom. He should, and he probably would have if he hadn't been hit with a sudden wave of exhaustion that threatened to have him passing out mid-sentence. It was a late night, and after all that running, and fucking, and booze... 

Robert closed his eyes but kept talking, his voice thick and gravely. 

"You fuck like the Devil, Father. Didn't think you had it in ya."

It'd been a long time since Joseph had  _ fucked  _ anyone like that. He felt exhausted, splayed out half-atop Robert in the aftermath with his head tipped back and his stomach heaving. It took a few minutes to get back to some semblance of normality, to breathe a little easier and register the discomfort of cooling cum on his fingers and cooling lube on his soft dick, which rested lewdly against his thigh and left a strip of shiny slick over the skin. 

He had the good graces, at least, to try and tidy up a little bit, using his shirt to wipe his hand on and gather up some of the mess on his thighs, but it wasn't enough. A shower was necessary, and maybe a change of clothes, but Joseph felt too tired for either. 

Instead, he arranged himself with a grunt and some prodding, tossing decorative cushions aside until he could curl around Robert and use his chest as a makeshift pillow, one arm slung lazily around the man's waist and the other wedged between him and the back of the couch. 

"We're going to have to talk about your blasphemous language at some point, you know," he muttered around a yawn, not terribly compelled to have that discussion now. It was kind of hot, admittedly, even if Robert laid it on pretty thick. "Just because I'm a Christian doesn't mean I'm not sexual."

While Robert generally made a point of being stoic -- or at least,  _ pretending _ to be stoic -- there were times he couldn't help himself. Now was one of them; he broke out into a breathless  _ giggle _ , having to clamp a hand over his mouth to keep quiet lest he rouse anyone upstairs. His deep brow eyes were crinkled in what was perhaps the most genuine show of giddy amusement he'd given in front of Joseph thus far, and though the expression eventually fell to a sleepy, lazy smirk, it was still quite a break from Robert's usual stoniness.

"Yeah, I noticed," he said as his hand fell away, still not bothering to wipe the rest of the cum from his face even as it began to cool. Honestly, Robert was tempted to just fall asleep like this -- he wouldn't have even minded if Joseph decided to stay right where he was, sprawled near-naked on top of him with their legs tangled together. It wasn't the post comfortable position, and Robert generally made a point of kicking his partners out after sex, but he made the occasional exceptions. Of course, for practicality reasons it wasn't as if Joseph could stay like this for very much longer, and eventually the thrill of potentially getting caught would sour into paranoia and anxiety.

Still, Robert was content to enjoy this while he could. He closed his eyes and found himself dozing a little, sleep already crawling over him like a warm blanket, and the heat of Joseph's body lulling him off. 

"Don't think I've ever  _ met _ anyone more sexual than you, n'fact," Robert mumbled, words slurring together in equal parts thank to the booze and his fatigue. He was barely aware of what he was saying, which was perhaps why such an earnest-sounding compliment managed to slip out. "That was really good, Jo'."

"Glad you liked it." Robert genuinely giggled - a high-pitched, sweet sounding little trill that had Joseph grinning and cracking open one eye just to get the full effect of that visual. He dragged a hand over Robert's side, up his chest and down his stomach in a slow, soothing caress that tapered off eventually into the play of his fingers over the bumps of Robert's visible ribs. He was pretty much content to doze off just like that, honestly, already feeling the steady tug of sleep trying to drag him under, but it was cool in the room. The A/C ran right over them, humming steadily as it pumped cold air and helped clear some of the lingering sex smell that clung to Joseph's shirt and Robert's skin, though nothing short of a couple opened windows and half a bottle of Febreeze would really do the job. 

That was a concern for later. For now, Joseph took just enough time to tiredly struggle for the throw blanket slung over the back of the couch. It was a little itchy, made exclusively with decoration in mind, but it did the job and kept his legs warm, draped haphazardly over his and Robert's bottom half. 

A quick nap couldn't hurt, right? Joseph was usually up long before his alarm, and tipsy as he was, he was reasonably confident (a little too confident, maybe) that tonight wouldn't be any different. 

And anyway: Robert was warm, comfortable enough, and seemed in no rush to be going anywhere. 

If Robert hadn't already been so far-gone into a tequila and exhaustion-fueled sleep, he would have definitely pushed for Joseph to leave -- or have just left, himself. Fucking was one thing, but actually  _ sleeping _ together was both too risky and too intimate, and Robert would come to thoroughly regret his inability to exercise better judgment once he was conscious again.

But for now, he did and said nothing, already beginning to gently snore by the time Joseph draped a blanket over their legs. His arm had at some point slung around Joseph's waist, more for comfort than from any subconscious desire to keep the source of warmth close. There were certainly more comfortable positions and places to sleep in, but Robert was dead to the world and drunk enough not to rouse for the next few hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone curious:
> 
> Fresh wrote for Joseph  
> Tea wrote for Robert


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad, drunk decisions always lead to some kind of trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This account is run and managed by two people: Tea and Fresh.
> 
> We are RP partners, and we're using this platform to unload our (copious) number of RPs.  
> Mostly smut, tbh.
> 
> The POV changes frequently, given the nature of roleplay writing, and if there are any noticeable continuity gaps it's 100% because the rp was abandoned for a few days/weeks before getting picked up again.
> 
> None of these works have been edited, touched up, or polished.

It was only when the first rays of morning light peered through the living room blinds that the heavy blanket of sleep began to recede, and even then, Robert kept snoozing until he felt someone's elbow poke into his ribs. He grumbled and reached blindly for the pillow that normally occupied the side of the bed opposite to his, desperate to cover his face to keep the light from aggravating his hangover headache. Instead, he felt nothing but empty air on one side and the back of the couch on the other.

 

_ 'Right, not in my bedroom.'  _ It came back to him slowly, and though the details were still fuzzy, Robert could remember the overall sequence of events from last night. First had been the bar -- Robert couldn't recall how he'd dragged Joseph there, but he remembered drinking with him. Then there was the old abbey, and that  _ thing _ , and they'd run and subsequently drove back to Joseph's place where he patched up Robert's hand and shared a couple shots of tequila and--

 

They'd fucked. Robert remembered that -- quite vividly, in fact -- though that might just be because every ache in his body reminded him of exactly why he was sore, from bite marks to fingernails to the thick length of Joseph's cock. Robert's bandaged hand throbbed, too, but it was just one pain in what felt like a sea of them covering nearly every inch of Robert's naked body. He groaned and threw the back of his forearm over his eyes, not wanting to open them and take stock of the state he was in. He also didn't want to deal with whatever potential fall-out there might be; after all, he'd passed out like this on Joseph's living room couch. What if Mary had seen? What if Joseph had sobered up and realized his mistake?

 

Whatever the case might be, Robert was too sore and hungover to deal with it right then, and so he dozed back off again before he really wake up. He could figure this out  _ later _ , when the sun had at least fully risen.

 

Well, he  _ had  _ woken up before his alarm (and subsequently before his children), but not through any sort of magical internal clock that demanded he rouse himself from his incriminating slumber. No, the rough shake that had brought him out of sleep had been none other than Mary herself, back from a rendezvous at six in the morning and clearly about as drunk as Joseph was hungover. 

 

She looked  _ very  _ displeased, if a little unfocused, and Joseph supposed he couldn't blame her. They hadn't exactly discussed it, but there was probably a whole unwritten clause somewhere in their vows about not bringing side pieces home, where the children could stumble in on them at any moment. Still, he was tired, and mostly unclothed, and covered in the remnants of his and Robert's night - dried spunk on his thighs starting to chafe when he finally moved to sit up - wincing as a stab of pain shot him right between the eyes. 

 

"You couldn't of fucking  _ waited _ ?" Mary was too drunk for this, and with the kids due to roll out of bed soon, she was tempted to leave Joseph to deal with the fallout on his own. 

 

"Like  _ you  _ ever wait when something with a pulse catches your eye." Then again - this was the perfect opportunity for a fight, and Mary had been itching for a good reason to lay into  _ someone  _ for a while, now. 

 

"At least I have the decency to take it to their place!" 

 

They didn't have  _ time  _ for this. Crish would be demanding attention soon, and Joseph - hungover and achey as he was - was clearly the only one capable of tending to her when Mary got like this. Plus, again, she wasn't  _ wrong _ , and the pounding in his head was too strong for him to come up with a reasonable retort. 

 

He prodded Robert without saying anything further to her, and when that didn't work, applied a firm elbow right between his ribs, scrubbing his eyes while the man grunted and finally looked like he was coming to. 

 

"You're a real piece of fucking work, Jo. Where'd I manage to find one like you, huh?" 

 

No sooner had Robert begun drifting off again did he find himself rudely jolted away by another elbow to the ribs and the sound of angry but hushed conversation. He lifted his forearm from his face with a put-upon groan and blinked the sleep from his eyes, suddenly aware of who was still half-lying on top of him and -- more importantly -- who was standing, arms crossed, by the end of the sofa.

 

While he wasn't typically one to blush at being caught with his pants down, Robert also wasn't exactly in the habit of sleeping with married men. It didn't help that he knew Mary. Honestly, this would have been a hell of a lot less awkward if he'd never met her before, if they hadn't spent most of last week giddily drunk in various bars downtown while Mary shamelessly flirted with male patrons a good decade or two younger than her and Robert made a point of not mentioning her husband.

 

It looked like things had come full-circle. There was something woefully ironic about the situation Robert now found himself in, and if he wasn't too busy feeling a deep sense of guilt and an even deeper sense of  _ I need to get the fuck out of here _ , he might have laughed.

 

Laughing was definitely not the best course of action right now, though, not when Robert was buck-ass nude and still had Joseph's spunk on his face from last night.

 

Trying to keep himself covered with the blanket still draped across his lower half, Robert glanced desperately at the floor in search of his clothes. What was the standard protocol one was to follow in this type of situation, anyway? Apologizing seemed lame, not to mention insincere. A  _ 'good morning'  _ would probably be downright insulting.

 

Robert ultimately settled upon a murmured, "M'gonna leave", his voice rougher than gravel after last night's bender, and his face and ears a bright shade of pink as he rolled onto his side and grabbed his crumpled-up briefs from where they'd been left on the floor.

 

"That's it? Not going to stay for mimosas?" Mary, thankfully, decided to be merciful towards Joseph, who took her sudden fixation on Robert to find his own underwear and tug them hastily on while somewhere upstairs, Chris' alarm went off. Joseph hissed a swear; it wouldn't be long, now, and he had to get rid of Robert before any of the kids came downstairs and caught sight of the full moon flashing around. First, though, a shower was in order. 

 

"Least you could do is warn a girl you're planning on taking her husband out for a ride,  _ sailor _ ." 

 

"Mary, for  _ God's sake _ -" 

 

She didn't let Joseph finish, snapping her fingers in front of his face until he had no choice but to shut up and put his pants on. 

 

"Did he use the Lord's name in vain last night too, Robbie? Did you -  _ hic _ \- ask him to?"

 

"Frankly I don't think that's any of  _ your _ business."

 

"My fucking house my fucking business, Jo. If you didn't want me to ask you shouldn't of paraded him through  _ here _ . He lives across the damn street, y'know." 

 

Yes, he knew. He'd been there hardly a week prior, to help Robert unpack and to resist the urge to suck his dick in the middle of his mess of a home. That clearly hadn't solved any of the problems, merely delayed the inevitable, which had culminated in a sorry case of 'bad place'  _ and  _ 'bad time,' leaving Joseph with his pants literally caught around his ankles and the familiar sounds of one of his kids shuffling around upstairs to worry himself about. 

 

"We'll talk  _ later _ ," he hissed, eyes flashing briefly dark. Mary remained entirely unfazed but let him go. He was better with his little hellspawn, anyway. 

 

_ Plus _ , it gave her a chance to hound after Robert when Joseph disappeared into the master bedroom, turning back to her husband's newest little fixation with a critical glare and a sour expression. What'd Robert have that Jo wanted so damn much? More importantly: besides a  _ dick _ , what'd Joseph have that was enough for Robert to throw caution to the wind in such a blatant manner? Yeah, the guy wasn't the most upstanding citizen, but he seemed more decent than to fuck a married man in his own home, considering how much (or, rather, how  _ little _ ) he knew of Mary and Joseph's delicate arrangement. 

 

"You've got a lot of balls,  _ sailor _ , to fuck around in my living room. I bought that decorative rug, you know." 

 

Robert wanted nothing more than to sink into the floor, right then, or perhaps to somehow slink his way out of the room before he was forced into having this conversation. But  _ no _ , Mary fixed her eyes on him, her gaze not lacking in intensity despite that she looked dead on her feet. Still a little pink in the face, Robert ducked his head as he hastily pulled on his briefs and began to do the same with his pants. This was not a conversation he wanted to be having, least of all right now, when he could feel dried spunk flaking off his face every time his mouth moved. Unfortunately, it seemed as though Mary was focusing the entirety of her fury and scorn upon him all of the sudden, and it wasn't until Robert glanced up and noticed that Joseph had disappeared from the room that he realized why.

 

That  _ bastard _ . He could have at least stayed and distracted her while Robert made a swift exit -- instead, he'd made one of his own and more or less had thrown Robert under the bus.

 

Grimacing, Robert zipped up his jeans and bent down again for a shirt, still trying not to look Mary in the eye. 

 

"It was a mistake," he muttered, and while that was true -- or,  _ kind of _ true -- Robert realized it was a poor excuse for what had happened. "I was--  _ We  _ were drunk, and it had been a weird night, and--" Robert groaned and pressed the heel of his palm against his eyes, his hangover seeming to hit him all at once. " _ Shit _ , I wasn't planning on sleeping with your husband, Mary. It just... happened."

 

Still a lame-ass excuse, but Robert didn't really have anything better.

 

"A man doesn't sit on a dick  _ accidentally. _ " It tended to be a fully conscientious and well-prepared little venture, honestly, though if Mary had taken a cursory glance around the room, she would've noted that clearly alcohol had been involved in one way or another. No matter: Joseph wasn't so stupid as to let a couple of shots of tequila be the deciding factor for sleeping with a man in his own home.

 

Maybe he'd planned this. Mary knew he was just as sick of their arrangement as she was, and she also knew that he could be downright vicious, when properly riled. But they hadn't had any real big fights recently (none that would have him bending her drinking buddy over the side of his favorite couch, anyway). Maybe Robert really was  _ special _ . 

 

Special enough for her husband to care about whether or not she'd slept with him, and to get a hand down those ratty jeans before she had the chance to. 

 

Whatever the case, the fact that Robert was there was  _ annoying  _ more than infuriating, but he was red in a way Mary had never seen him and she had a very strict ' _ no mercy _ ' policy when it came to vicious teasing, even  _ if  _ she liked the guy. 

 

"Was it worth it?" 

 

Mary had a  _ point --  _ it wasn't exactly 'accidental' where Joseph's dick had ended up last night, and drunk or not he vividly recalled a moment of guilt when he considered what he was doing. Robert was well-aware that he'd crossed a line, that sleeping with a married man was morally dubious at best, but he'd still gone through with it. Hell, he probably deserved a whole lot worse than being vocally shamed by Mary for it, though somehow her lack of forthright anger was  _ worse.  _

 

Still only half-dressed and shrinking under Mary's harsh glower, Robert hurriedly fumbled for his red sweater (which was about the same shade as his face, right then) where it lay half-buried beneath the couch. He struggled to respond to her question, partly because he wasn't sure if it was rhetorical, and also because he still had no idea how he was supposed to navigate this conversation. Words were not Robert's forte. Neither were feelings, or anything falling under the wide umbrella of social niceties. It didn't help that he felt uncharacteristically guilty about the whole thing.

 

"Not if this makes me a home-wrecker," he said, peering warily up at Mary as he pulled his sweater over his head and left his hair in even more disarray than it had been. Robert figured he might as well be honest in this, and saying  _ 'no' _ wasn't entirely truthful -- Robert doubted he would have gone back and done anything differently, at least at this point. Not unless this led to some kind of heated divorce, though thinking about it, Robert couldn't imagine how Mary could hold this over Joseph's head when she made no secret of flirting with any handsome young thing in the bars. Then again, what did he know? He wasn't privy to the goings-on of their marriage. All he knew was that neither of them -- least of all Mary -- seemed happy.

 

Not that it really made this any better.

 

At the admission - delivered in a guilt-stricken voice Mary hadn't thought Rob capable of - she barked out a laugh, head thrown back and cackling loud enough that Joseph could hear it in the other room (and any children that we're awake could  _ definitely _ hear it upstairs). 

 

"Oh,  _ honey _ . This home was a wreck  _ long _ before you showed up. Don't think you're  _ that _ special, sailor." How old were the twins? How old was  _ Chris _ , was probably the right question. Their union had been a mess even before the little devil had spawned, but things had gone especially downhill after the birth of their first and all of their subsequent children. 

 

What had ever compelled Mary to think that  _ another _ one might make things better? 

 

If anything, each subsequent child put further strain on their relationship until the string had finally snapped, leaving two bitter people behind in a house that clearly wasn't big enough for both of them. 

 

"Don't feel too bad, Robbie." He looked so hangdog that it wasn't fun to tease him anymore, so Mary dropped the pretense, plopping down beside him on the couch with a heavy, put-upon sigh. 

 

Robert wasn't sure whether or not he should feel relieved by Mary's claim that he was no homewrecker -- or, more specifically, if it made him a selfish bastard to feel some of the weight of his guilt alleviate. After all, the only reason he hadn't wrecked anything was because there wasn't anything  _ to _ wreck. Why should he take comfort in knowing that Joseph and Mary's marriage was in shambles? That he hadn't actually made anything worse? He had still done a shitty thing, after all, and it seemed only fair he be punished for it in some way.

 

Mary seemed to have given up on her efforts to verbally shame him, however, and it was with some bewilderment that Robert watched as she dropped down beside him with an exasperated sigh. He watched her skeptically for a long moment, as though expecting her anger to return again, but in wake of that eruption of laughter it didn't look like she had any more vicious accusations to sling at him.

 

"You're taking this... well," he said, speaking up tentatively after a beat of uncertain silence. "Has he-- Has this happened before, or...?"

 

Robert realized only after asking the question that he was prying too deeply, but now that he had asked he couldn't help his curiosity.

 

"Has he fucked men on the side?" Mary clarified, tipsy enough to be more blunt than usual but having the decency to keep her voice hush now that the sun was coming up over the horizon. Downstairs, the master bedroom door opened, then shut, and Joseph could be heard moving directly to the staircase without poking his head into the living room again. 

 

Mary sniffed and leaned in close, whispering conspirationally and with a grin like she was sharing some big secret: " _ Much _ fewer than I have." Robert had seen her damn near every night for the past week. He knew what she got up to, besides drinking a bottle-and-a-half of wine in one sitting. It wasn't  _ really _ a secret that she wasn't faithful, and it clearly wasn't a secret now that Joseph wasn't, either. 

 

There came al general commotion from upstairs before Mary could say anything further, twins woken by their father and Crish starting to wail for attention shortly after; Robert got no chance to say his piece, either. Mary stood after a moment seemingly spent contemplating if it was even worth it, and plucked his truck keys from the side table, tossing them Robert's way without bothering to aim. 

 

"You should leave, before one of them comes down and starts asking questions."

 

Robert couldn't help but wonder what exactly  _ much fewer  _ implied; just how often did Joseph fuck around, anyway? Had he been eyeing Robert from the start with the intention of having a one-night stand?  _ Was _ this a one-night stand? And more importantly, why did Robert care?

 

He didn't -- or more accurately,  _ shouldn't _ \-- so Robert didn't voice any of the many questions rattling around in his head. There wasn't time to discuss them, anyway, not with Mary suddenly standing and tossing Robert his keys. They landed square with his chest before he could catch them, too hungover to be coordinated, and he fumbled with them for a moment before moving gracelessly to his feet.

 

"Yeah, 'course," he muttered, still a little uncomfortable -- not to mention distracted -- as he grabbed his leather jacket from the back of the sofa and slung it over one shoulder. Robert threw Mary another somewhat sheepish glance as he shuffled for the front door, mouth opening and closing a few times before he managed to speak. "Hey... Let me buy you a couple rounds next time, yeah?"

 

It felt like the least he could do for fucking around with her husband. Especially considering Robert would do it again, in a heartbeat.

 

Over the next few weeks, Robert bought Mary much more than a  _ few _ rounds, and Joseph heard neither hide nor hair from his neighbor. 

 

He saw him plenty, though. 

 

Across the street in the late afternoons and evenings, dropping Mary off in the middle of the night, crawling out of bed early in the mornings when Joseph was busy ushering the kid into the car; Robert seemed to be everywhere even as he made every concerted effort to avoid speaking with Joseph and ignored every one of his text messages. 

 

Joseph  _ hated _ it, and Mary was having a goddamn field day with the fact. She rubbed it in his face without ever saying a word, and as a result their fights were more explosive than ever, resulting in even the kids starting to notice that something was off. Chris was more withdrawn than usual, and the even the twins seemed to disappear more often than usual, coming back only when Joseph spent the better portion of his evenings combing the house for the two of them. 

 

A month passed, and there was still nothing from Robert, not for lack of trying on Joseph's behalf, until one balmy evening in late spring after a solid week of heavy rain and bright lightning. 

 

' _ come over _ ' wasn't the most poetic of invitations, but it was more than enough to have Joseph perking up after days of weather-induced lethargy. 

 

It was hardly half an hour (Mary was blessedly home and surprisingly sober enough to at least pretend to watch the kids while he slipped out) before Joseph was knocking at Robert's door, in the house and carefully leaning his umbrella against the wall while he shook the awkwardness off and pretended like he wasn't pathetically eager to see the man again.

 

He failed miserably, hands on Robert before he could stop himself and the two of them stumbling towards the living room in the middle of a kiss.

 

"This's what you called me in for, right?" he murmured, mouth slotted over Rob's pulse-point. The bruises he'd left from the previous time has long-since healed, and Joseph was eager to bite new ones into his skin, fingers scrambling under the soft, well-worn fabric of Rob's sweater to touch him like a long-missed lover. 

 

Avoiding Joseph had been a whole lot harder than Robert anticipated. First off, he hadn't expected Joseph to make any active efforts to get in touch again, not after Mary had caught them the morning after their first and only night together. Joseph was going to such great lengths to give everyone in the cul-de-sac the impression that his marriage was a happy one, and getting involved with someone else on a regular basis would surely make that impossible. Robert saw no reason why Joseph would reach out to him again, after that; he'd convinced himself, in fact, that Joseph was a 'one night' kind of guy, that Mary's comment about how many fewer affairs he'd had over the course of their marriage was illustrative of that. One night. That's all it was going to be. No point in talking about it after the fact, no point in keeping in touch...

 

But Joseph had texted him. More than once, in fact, he'd tried to make contact, if not through text than by waving at Robert while he watered the front lawn, or by bringing more plates of baked goods to his door. Every effort was met either with silence or outright ignored. Robert figured it was how he  _ should _ respond, after all; there was no reason he and Joseph should keep interacting, and he had no desire to maintain some fake, superficial friendship with a guy who was still going on pretending like his marriage wasn't in shambles. If Joseph was only making those efforts to keep in touch because he wanted to fuck around again, well... he could have prefaced his texts with that, rather than some innocuous "Hi, how's it going?". He should know by now that Robert liked directness. 

 

Then again, if Robert was taking a page from his own book, he probably should have led out with a "Hey, can you come over? I think my house is haunted" instead of a vague demand for Joseph to come over. Because really,  _ sex _ had not been the first thing on Robert's mind when he'd sent off that message. It had been the second or third thing, maybe, but not the  _ first _ , not when he'd spent the better part of the past three weeks feeling increasingly uneasy in his own bedroom. 

 

Their encounter with Old Abbey Creeper had freaked Robert out more than he cared to admit. In fact, that might very well have been the source of his paranoia -- and maybe even his  _ delusions _ , because Robert was having a hard time believing that he really had seen his kitchen cupboards slam shut, that the scratching in his ceiling really hadn't just been raccoons, that Betsy's cowering and the strange shadows he'd see in his peripherals were all coincidences or a figment of his drunk mind. He made a point of going out to the bar with Mary as often as possible, desperate not to be alone, and to be away from his house that felt altogether too empty and too much like he was sharing it with  _ something.  _

 

He was probably just losing his mind. Maybe the guilt and the alcohol had finally gotten to him. Robert felt on-edge and unhinged more often than not recently, and it was made all the more difficult to stand being home alone when he would wake up from dreams and nightmares (and strangely, more often than not,  _ wet dreams)  _ with the distinct feeling that something was looming over him. 

 

Whether he'd gone crazy or the Old Abbey Creeper had followed him home, Robert didn't know. All he knew was that it got to him finally, one Thursday evening, when Mary was too busy to answer her texts and Robert was too sober to pretend like he hadn't seen several DVDs fly off the shelf of their own accord and the TV flick on and off to static whenever he walked by the living room. Betsy was growling at one corner of the room when finally Robert broke down and sent Joseph a message.

 

After a month of being very rudely and pointedly ignored, Joseph was still awfully eager to come over. Robert might have felt guilty about that if he wasn't feeling so jittery, and if Joseph hadn't pulled him in for a kiss the moment the front door shut behind him.

 

If Robert had been preoccupied by thoughts of madness and ghosts before, now all he could think of was  _ sex _ ; it was a welcome distraction to say the least, and so he kissed Joseph back deeply and messily as they fumbled with one another's clothing and gracelessly made their way past the living room and down the hall. He let out a quiet groan when Joseph's teeth found his throat, and pulled him closer by a tug of his hair and a yank of his pink polo. 

 

"Yeah," Robert lied breathlessly, though maybe it wasn't  _ really _ a lie; he'd wanted company, hadn't he? Someone to make him feel less alone? Sex would help with that. It always did, at least until it was over and Robert found himself alone again. In the meantime, though, Robert was  _ desperate _ for it. He yanked loose Joseph's belt half-way to the bedroom and then shoved him up against the wall by the bathroom, dropping to his knees and burying eager kisses against the white cotton of Joseph's briefs. Robert could already feel his cock hardening under his attentions, and so he threw himself at the task with reckless abandon, mouthing at Joseph through his briefs and roughly palming his ass with all the enthusiasm of a man starved.

 

They didn't make it to the bedroom, stopping somewhere just shy of a door where the dim light from the main room could silhouette their figures down the hall. Robert decided that there was a good place to stop and shove Joseph to the wall, and Joseph, frankly, couldn't find it within himself to argue that. He grunted when his shoulders connected to the wall, hands fluttering briefly while he decided where he wanted them most. Long nails raked through Robert's hair, then down the back of his neck, then briefly passed over his shoulders before Robert decided to drop to his knees in front of him and mouth at his dick through the thin fabric of his briefs. 

 

Joseph sighed, then groaned, then threw his head back with a guttural,  _ needy _ noise, loud enough to be heard through the house had there been anyone to hear him. He could be loud, here, and maybe if they'd come to Robert's place instead the last time this happened, they might of avoided the last three weeks of  _ torture _ . 

 

It didn't occur to him for a single moment that Robert might've invited him for reasons other than sex. The Abbey Creeper had been taken care of a while ago (Joseph had enjoyed every second of working out his frustrations on the creature), and as far as he knew, there wasn't much happening in that quiet neighborhood of theirs. Even the Creeper wouldn't of stirred up much fuss had Joseph decided that he didn't actually need to go and clean up the mess he'd found. But he had, and it had been  _ incredibly _ cathartic, and now Robert was offering him another sort of much-desired release, mouth against his dick and breath puffing hot through the cotton of his underwear.

 

"Fuck, you feel  _ good _ ," he rumbled, fingers back in Robert's hair to guide the press of his mouth and pace their progress. 

 

"Missed that mouth of yours, Rob. Thought I'd disappointed, last time." They both knew exactly why Robert had been avoiding him, but Joseph didn't want to be reminded of the fact, not there and not now. Concocting a fantasy about why they hadn't seen each other in so long made it more palatable, somehow - let him forget about how Mary had been silently rubbing it in for weeks that Robert wasn't avoiding  _ her _ . 

 

"Come on,  _ darling _ . Show me just how good you are."

 

Robert couldn't help but shiver at the nails against his scalp and the sugary-sweet compliments on Joseph's tongue. He hadn't even gotten his mouth on the other man's dick and already he was plying Robert with praise -- calling him  _ darling _ , telling him how  _ good _ he was -- and while Robert knew he was laying it on thick, he was helplessly rapt. He never considered himself to be much into praise. If anything, being called a  _ dirty slut _ did more for him than being told he was good. Maybe it had just been too long since the last time Robert had had intimate contact. A month wasn't really that bad for most, but for Robert, who was more often than not starved for sex and company and had a tendency to achieve both through heavy drinking and one-night stands...

 

Yeah, a month was a long time. Robert remembered those few nights after Joseph that he'd spent in bed, fingering himself open and relishing in the lingering ache in his ass, in the way the bruises and scratches stung when he pressed against them. The aches had faded, eventually, and Robert was left with nothing but the hazy memories when he rubbed one out alone every night thereafter.

 

It explained his eagerness now, perhaps, and why he barely had the patience to strip away Joseph's briefs once he'd left the cotton nice and damp around the hard outline of his cock. They were yanked away eventually with a bit of help on Joseph's part, and when his dick finally sprung free and slapped against the side of Robert's cheek, he wasted no time in chasing the fat, dripping head with his mouth. He swallowed Joseph down with reckless abandon, as eager as he was  _ grateful  _ \-- grateful for the distraction, grateful that Joseph had actually come here when Robert had asked him to, grateful that he actually wanted to fuck again.

 

Peering up at Joseph with his pupils blown wide and his eyebrows drawn in what appeared to be concentration, Robert swallowed him down until his nose rested against the scratchy blonde pubes of his groin. 

 

"God -  _ fuck _ !" Joseph couldn't help his swear, not that he came equipped with any sort of filter when the wet heat of Robert's mouth closed around his dick and swallowed him in one easy move. Robert acted like a man starved, like he hadn't done this since the last time they'd seen each other (and who knew; Mary sure as shit didn't divulge information about what they got up to on their binges), and Joseph was likewise compromised, clamping down the hold he had on Rob's hair just to keep him pressed against the 'v' of his crotch.

 

"That's fucking it, just like that,  _ baby _ . Hold it," he growled, eyes flashing dark and dangerous at the way Robert looked, the way his throat felt tight and clenching around Joseph's dick until he gagged and spluttered and lost some drool into the coarse hair of his beard. 

 

Joseph let him go when the tears at the corners of his eyes threatened to spill, giving Robert opportunity to cough and work some breath into his aching lungs while he pet his hair and watched a thin string of pre hang suspended from the tip of his dick to Rob's bottom lip, waiting until it snapped and left a slick trail down Robert's chin. Then he took himself in his free hand and pumped his fist over the spit-slick shaft, working himself to full hardness with a few deliberate jerks.

 

"Come here," he muttered when the flush across Rob's nose resided somewhat, dragging him back in by a fistful of hair. He rubbed his dick along Robert's cheek, across his kiss-swollen bottom lip, smearing pre into his skin with a content sigh and making Robert chase after his dick before feeding him every fat inch again. 

 

Joseph had such a way with filthy words and such a knack for rough handling that Robert felt nearly helpless beneath those firm, demanding touches. Truth be told, it was the kind of treatment he craved but so often found wanting with his past lovers. Very few were able to recognize much less  _ give _ him what he wanted, but Joseph seemed to have him figured out from the start. It was little wonder, then, why Robert had missed this so intensely, why he hadn't even  _ bothered _ fucking around when he knew no one else would be able to scratch that itch the same way that Joseph had. It also was little wonder why Robert was so eager for it now, why he swooned rather than jerked away when Joseph forced him to keep his cock in his throat until he involuntarily gagged and teared up. When Joseph let go, Robert only pulled back out of necessity, gasping for breath and swallowing back bile and spit as he furiously blinked away the moisture in his eyes. He didn't bother to scrub the spit from his beard or wipe his dripping nose _ ;  _ Robert figured he already looked like a mess to begin with, even figured that Joseph  _ liked _ it.

 

Still peering up at him intently, Robert followed after Joseph's dick with parted lips until he got his mouth around it once more. It was more of a struggle this time to fit every last inch past his lips with Joseph rock-hard and thick as he was, but Robert was nothing if not determined, the hand on the back of his head and Joseph's pleased sighs all the encouragement he needed. It felt good, letting someone use his mouth like this. It felt even better when Joseph came by it so naturally, when he seemed to know just how into it Robert really was without being told.

 

Choking back a cough as Joseph's dick prodded the back of his throat, Robert reached down between his legs and palmed at his cock through his jeans at the same time that he began to slowly bob his head. While he liked the idea of having his face fucked, he was just as interested in seeing what it took to make Joseph fall apart -- even more than he had already.

 

Joseph  _ did  _ like it. The mess of spit and snot and glistening tears at the corners of Robert's eyes were a very handsome look - the kind of thing that belonged in a porn movie, surely, or otherwise between the pages of a very seedy magazine - Joseph kind of wanted to pull his phone out and commit that visage to digital memory. He refrained, if only because he didn't want to go fishing for his pants, which were caught somewhere around calves, and watched Robert instead, drinking in the gorgeous sight of him. 

 

"What an eager  _ slut _ , Rob." He took dick so well, too, swallowing Joseph down a second time until his nose was buried in the coarse hairs at the base of his crotch. Robert sucked and Joseph gasped, tugging on the dark strands of hair between his fingers until Rob got the point and eased off, falling into an easy rhythm that Joseph didn't bother to moderate. He knew what he liked, and he  _ liked  _ to be in control, but there was no harm in letting Robert set the pace for a while, not when he seemed to know exactly what to do to have Jo's toes curling in his patent leather loafers. 

 

He rucked his own shirt up, dragging the polo over his stomach so that the hem didn't obstruct his view, and with Robert slowly bobbing his head, rocked his own hips gently into the tight, wet heat of his mouth. "Got a real talent for this.  _ Fuck _ , you're going to make me cum if you keep up like  _ that _ , Rob." 

 

While sex almost always provided Robert some amount of distraction, the degree to which it captured his focus was variable. Sometimes sex just wasn't as distracting; hell, sometimes it was even a bit  _ boring _ . 

 

With Joseph, though, Robert was both captivated  _ and  _ thrilled. it was almost overwhelming, actually, just how eager he was to swallow Joseph's dick down, and just how freely he volunteered to choke himself every time he bobbed his mouth forward, shameless of the wet slurps and involuntary gags that left him. Likewise, Robert didn't care to wipe away the drool that trickled from the corners of his mouth. He  _ liked  _ being filthy in every sense of the word, and Robert could tell that Joseph felt very much the same way, if the cum he'd had to scrub out of his beard last time was anything to go by.

 

A low, guttural groan rumbled in Robert's chest as he continued palming at himself in time to the steady rhythm of his head. He closed his eyes momentarily, wanting to take a moment to take it all in: The bitter-salty taste of Joseph's dick, the musky smell of him, his quiet moans and praise, the occasional sharp tugs at Robert's hair. It was all  _ so  _ much, and Robert could have almost gotten off right there if not for the sudden series of  _ thuds _ in the living room that had him practically jolting out of his skin and very-nearly setting his teeth against Joseph's dick. It sounded as though someone had flung more DVDs from the shelf and at the opposite wall, and Robert felt his erection flag at the rude reminder of why exactly he'd been seeking out a distraction in the first place. 

 

He removed his mouth from Joseph's dick with a wet  _ pop _ and then surged to his feet, grabbing at Joseph's collar to simultaneously drag him into a kiss and backward toward the bedroom. A greater distraction was needed if Robert was to soothe his jittery nerves.

 

Joseph was distracted, but he wasn't  _ deaf _ . Even the wet slurps from between his legs, or his own harsh, desperate breathing, couldn't cover up the loud thuds and bangs that sounded from the other room. Maybe it was the dog - Betsy, or whatever her name was - causing a fuss, but for all that Joseph had met her only once or twice before, he hadn't pegged her as a particularly rowdy animal. She'd never tried to attack him, despite sensing what he was, and her meek reactions to even the most subtle of influence made her easy to write off as something that wasn't a threat at all.

 

He thought, for a moment, that maybe Rob had someone  _ else  _ in the house. Maybe a one-night-stand that had stuck around (which would be silly, honestly, considering that Robert had texted  _ him  _ first) or a friend or family member come to visit.

 

All of the possibilities seemed absurd, and didn't answer the sudden chill that crawled its way up Joseph's spine. Cold air from the vents, maybe, or perhaps something entirely different. 

 

Joseph didn't get a chance to ask about any of it. Robert hauled himself up to his feet before Joseph could think to say anything at all and then they were kissing again, the taste of precum and spit thick on his tongue along with a hint of whisky and weed. Joseph was effectively distracted again, chasing after Robert's mouth and forced into an awkward shuffle down the rest of the hall and into the main bedroom. 

 

It was a  _ fucking  _ mess, but what had Joseph expected, to begin with? He couldn't even be surprised when he got a look at it, tearing away from the kiss briefly to find the bed and direct them both towards it. Robert was shoved on his back and his own trousers were kicked off and discarded, leaving Joseph in nothing but socks and his polo when he climbed between Rob's legs and pressed a hand firmly to the center of his chest. 

 

" _ God _ , look at you. You have lube?" 

 

It was a damn good thing Joseph didn't comment on the sound, for soon enough they were both distracted in their graceless stumble for the bedroom, groping and kissing like they might never get the chance to again. Maybe that was true -- Robert didn't bother to think about it, right then, too absorbed in the press of Joseph's warm body and the rough drag of his palms to care about much else. Ghosts and extramarital affairs be damned. 

 

They managed to find their way into the bedroom after a good deal of distracted fumbling, and Robert found himself shoved down onto the mattress before he'd even gotten a chance to yank off Joseph's shirt (come to think of it, had be ever actually seen the guy completely naked?).  He went without a fight, content to be thrown wherever so long as it meant getting his hands on Joseph again. He did, however, make a point of grumbling as Joseph's hand pressed flat against his chest, kept woefully above the waist when all Robert wanted was some friction against his dick. It pressed against his zipper now, leaving his jeans painfully tight such that Robert couldn't help but squirm and buck up against Joseph in hopes of finding some relief. 

 

"Top drawer, probably," he grunted, body tense and jaw clenched as he desperately waited for Joseph's touch. Really, if he was that eager to get a hand on his dick, Robert could undress himself and put one of his hands to use. That wasn't what he wanted, though, not after an entire month of getting himself off with his hand and fading memories. Now he wanted the  _ real thing _ , loath though Robert was to wait even a few seconds for Joseph to rifle through his (admittedly disastrous) drawer. Growing impatient after only moments of this, Robert grabbed Joseph by the collar and yanked him down for another greedy kiss, then used the distraction and bit of momentum to flip positions so that Joseph was the one with is back against the mattress. He bunched up Joseph's shirt past his navel, suddenly wanting to get it off so that he could finally see him without one. 

 

"You gonna take this off?" Robert asked, idly grinding his hips against Joseph's so that their cocks (clothed though Robert's still was) pressed against one another. He didn't wait for an answer as he continued rolling the pink polo up Joseph's chest, revealing inch by tantalizing inch of that toned, hairless body. Hell, if anything Robert felt a little self-conscious in comparison; he could stand to get a little bit more in shape, after all...

 

Joseph didn't get much opportunity to dig around for the lube. He'd tried - by God, did he try - but the drawer Robert pointed him to was packed to overflowing with everything from knife cleaning rags to a half-full baggy of weed and an impressive collection of lighters. There were condoms, phone cords, cold and flu medication, and by the time Jo finally closed a hand around something that felt like a bottle of lube, Robert's patience had clearly worn out.

 

He was flipped unceremoniously onto his back, bottle clutched triumphantly in one hand and legs falling open around Rob's hips to accommodate the bulk of him between Joseph's thighs. 

 

"As long as you're not  _ shocked  _ by what you might see," he murmured, letting the lube fall somewhere on the bed in favor of getting his hands back on Robert. His fingers tangled in the longer strands of Rob's hair, mussing up the mess already there in his eagerness to drag him into another kiss. Doing this on a bed was  _ infinitely  _ more rewarding than trying to maneuver themselves across a too-narrow couch. Joseph could hook both legs around Robert's waist, could drag him closer with the heel of one foot pressed into the small of his back, until the pressure against his dick was enough to result in sweet, sweet friction. 

 

Joseph rolled his hips up with a sigh and wasn't much help at all as Robert shoved at his shirt, revealing first the smooth expanse of his stomach, then the broadness of his chest, where a navy blue mark above left pectoral was clearly enough to finally give Rob a moment of pause. 

 

Joseph grinned, sharp-toothed and predatory, while Robert inspected the simple anchor and chain, dragging his hands down the front of Rob's sweater in the meantime and returning the favor by yanking it harshly up and off. 

 

Robert wasn't sure what he expected to see; he figured there had to be a reason Joseph had kept his shirt on last time, after all, though whether it was just for convenience or because he had something to hide, Robert hadn't been sure. He hadn't imagined he'd find tattoos, though now that he thought about it, it made _sense_. Of course the 'cool', relatable, secret-freak youth minister would have tattoos. 

 

Intrigued, Robert traced the anchor symbol with his fingers, dipping them down to tease one or Joseph's pale pink nipples. His skin was surprisingly soft, and Robert was suddenly very tempted to get his mouth around one pebbled pink nipple, to tease it with his mouth and tongue just to see what kind of response it might prompt. 

 

He didn't get the chance to, at least not just yet; Joseph was yanking off his sweater and Robert humoured him, throwing it over his head and then tossing it to the floor so that he was left naked from the waist up. 

 

"What other tattoos have you got?" he asked, once he'd returned the favor and gotten Joseph free from his polo. Robert ran his callused palms down his chest as he waited for a response, appreciating the firm, hairless plane of Joseph's chest. God _ damn,  _ was he ever attractive. How had Robert managed to avoid him for an entire month? 

 

Robert, likewise, looked  _ delicious _ . The hairy expanse of his chest alone was enough to have Joseph's dick twitching in interest, and the smattering of scars, the little bit of fat indicative of age and a diet of whisky had Joseph eager to touch every bit of Robert's body he could get his hands on, claws raking over his chest and curling around his shoulders to drag him in for another filthy-wet kiss. 

 

"None." None that he could show off, at any rate. He didn't think Robert was ready to face the sprawling glyphs and pentagrams that adorned his back and shifted in mesmerizing, swirling patterns over his skin, symbols flickering in and out of existence depending on some Universal algorithm even Jo couldn't work through. If Joseph concentrated hard enough, he could make them disappear, or grow still, but much like everything else having to do with Robert Small, his self-control was sorely lacking. 

 

So he hoped he wouldn't have to roll over any time soon and instead distracted Rob with kisses and bruises, working the skin under his teeth back the same mottled pink-and-purple it had been a month ago. 

 

His fingers skittered over Robert's sides and to the front of his trousers, plucking greedily at the zip and button until he could undo both and shove them down over his hips, until he had the sweet press of skin and hair against his wandering palms and sensitive thighs.

 

" _ Fuck _ , you look good," he rumbled, palming Robert's hairy ass with both hands. He brought one palm down in a sharp smack, bouncing it off Rob's ass cheek with a grin and a wicked roll of his hips, then slotted their dicks together and groaned, tipping his head back for the returned attention Rob seemed eager to lavish on his chest and throat. 

 

Robert had to admit he was a  _ little _ let down that Joseph didn't have any other hidden tattoos to show off, but it was enough to see one splash of ink marring his otherwise smooth, perfect chest. He seemed to have a real thing for nautical motifs, if his choice of home decor (and even Mary's proclivity for calling people  _ 'sailor _ ') was any indication. Robert chose not to ask about it. He figured there were better uses for his mouth and tongue than talking, after all.

 

The resounding  _ slap _ when Joseph's palm collided with his ass had Robert biting his tongue, only to moan seconds later when Joseph's dick pressed up against his clothed groin. The bit of friction was oh-so tempting, and Robert couldn't help but reach between them to fumble open the fastenings of his jeans, shove them down his hips, and pull his cock out so he could feel some skin-on-skin. At the same time, he tucked his face down against the side of Joseph's throat, fighting the temptation to sink his teeth in and leave a few dark bruises. Robert knew better; he still had enough sense to realize that Joseph couldn't go home with a fresh smattering of hickeys.

 

But  _ God _ , did he ever want to mark Joseph up...

 

"Yeah? You sure I didn't look better when I was on my knees?" Robert asked, sounding both flirtatious and a little teasing as he nipped down Joseph's neck and collar only hard enough to sting without leaving any lingering marks behind. One hand kept stroking up and along Joseph's side, occasionally flicking a thumb across his nipple or tracing it across the dark blue anchor tattoo.

 

"You'd look good in any configuration," Joseph panted around a laugh, hips twitching upwards to match the lazy grind of Robert's hips. 

 

If this was all they did tonight, he wouldn't necessarily  _ complain _ . Anything was enough after a month without, but Joseph could only handle gentle teasing for so long before his impatience won out and he was rolling them again. Luckily, Robert's bed was large enough that they could wrestle on it if they wanted to, though Jo was the clear winner when he managed to pin Robert under him, slotting his knees between those furry thighs and effectively pinning Rob under him.

 

"So fucking handsome," he murmured, skirting his hands across Rob's torso and up to his shoulders. 

 

Rob didn't stop touching him, either, every pinch to his nipples and scratch along his chest making Joseph shiver and gasp until his dick was positively  _ drooling _ . It left thick dribbles of pre on Robert's inner thigh, smearing over his skin every time Joseph rocked his hips forward involuntarily or jerked as payback for the teasing treatment. 

 

"Christ, Rob,  _ fuck _ . I wanna fuck you."

 

Robert once again found himself on his back, but he wasn't complaining in the slightest. Joseph was a comfortable weight on top of him, and although Robert missed the pressure of Joseph's dick against his, he didn't attempt to fight his way out from beneath him. That was not to say he kept perfectly still; he squirmed as Joseph's knees nudged his thighs apart and left his cock straining and leaking against his hairy stomach. While he enjoyed the compromising position, Robert was less keen on being deprived of all that much-needed friction. He rebelled in the form of playing with Joseph's chest, rubbing and pinching his nipples and raking his nails along his sternum. Joseph made no secret of the effect this had on him, and just as Robert relished in the retaliatory jerks of Joseph's hips, he loved the breathless groans every little scratch and pinch earned him.

 

He was smirking by the time Joseph spoke, slyly flashing his teeth when Joseph began to cuss.

 

"There you go being  _ impious _ again, Father," he drawled, giving Joseph's nipple another decisive flick. "C'mon, then. Fuck me like you  _ mean it. _ "

 

" _Hah_ -" Joseph caught both of Robert's hands in his own, pressing his wrists to the pillow on either side of his head just to get him _still_ _for_ _one_ _goddamned_ _second_. The attention to his chest was appreciated; the caresses and the scratches and the sweet sting that made his nipples ache long after Rob's nails abandoned them had Joseph groaning, but he needed a fucking second, okay? A long month without had left him restless and his body far too eager. 

 

"- if I didn't know better, I'd think you got off on the whole  _ bad Christian _ thing," he murmured, baring down on Rob when he tried to squirm away. He dipped his chin and bit the tendons along Rob's throat, snarling eagerly and covering Robert's hairy body with his own. 

 

"Can hardly imagine what an eager slut you'd turn into if I showed up to your door in a cassock." Which - not a bad idea  _ at all _ . Joseph owned one - usually kept in storage for special occasions such as baptisms or the odd wedding - but he could see it used for other, more  _ recreational _ activities, if Rob was amicable. 

 

He let Rob go after biting a few sharp fang marks into the side of his throat and after some moments spent lapping at the idle drops of blood that oozed from the leftover love bites, then snatched the lube where he'd left it, squeezing a generous amount from the bottle onto his fingers. 

 

"C'mon, darling, spread your legs for me." He wanted to see the pretty furl of Rob's hairy hole, clenching dark and tempting around the tip of one finger as Joseph teased and smeared it with the lube.

 

Robert most certainly  _ did _ get off on the 'bad Christian' thing, but then, considering how lengthy his list of kinks, perhaps this was not altogether surprising. It was more the taboo nature of it that got him going, anyway. Imagining Joseph cussing and fucking him wearing a cossack had already crossed Robert's mind in more than a few fantasies, and just knowing that Joseph actually possessed one would keep those mental images alive for days and weeks to come (pun very much intended).

 

For now, though, Robert was more than content to have Joseph entirely naked and perched atop him, grabbing two palmfuls of his ass and digging in his fingers when Joseph's teeth sunk into his throat. Pain briefly flooded Robert's senses as he felt a few sharp pinpricks and the accompanying hot rush of blood, but all too soon Joseph was pulling away, leaving only a heavy, aching throb behind. It all went straight to Robert's cock, and he couldn't help but let go of Joseph so as to give his neglected cock a few desperate pulls. It leaked precum, glistening from tip to shaft as Robert's palm worked it hard and fast. Between the finger prodding at his hole, Joseph's lewd words, and the persistent ache in his neck, he already felt deliriously close.

 

" _ Fuck, _ you're hot when you get like this," Robert panted, grinning toothily as he brought his knees up toward his chest then spread his thighs as Joseph had oh-so-sweetly demanded of him. He let loose a quiet groan when Joseph's finger sunk in to the first knuckle, having to squeeze at the base of his dick just to keep off the sensation from becoming too much. 

 

"And to think that we've only just started." Joseph had so much more tucked up his sleeves that Rob couldn't of possibly known about - yet. Dark lines skittered along his back, shifting and settling into a new configuration while he fingered Robert open, pumping one finger, then a second, in and out of that tight hole. Well, perhaps not  _ that  _ tight. Rob was loose enough that Joseph could press a second finger inside of him without too much fanfare, pistoning it back and forth alongside the other while his free hand curled around Rob's thigh, spreading him a little wider and in the same way holding him in place. 

 

"Have you been touching yourself without me?" he asked, wicked smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth while his fingers sought out the raised bump of Rob's prostate and rubbed it mercilessly for a few indulgent seconds. "Been fucking other men?" Mary had hinted as such in an effort to rile him up (and how it had worked, each time she mentioned some  _ sailor  _ or other who'd chatted Robert up at the bars they frequented), but Joseph didn't know, and he didn't make much habit of trusting his wife, either. He wanted to hear a confirmation from the source itself. 

 

"Or did you just miss me?"

 

Robert briefly contemplated the merits of lying to Joseph. How would he take it if Robert told him he'd been sleeping around since their last encounter? The thought of goading Joseph into fucking him hard and aggressive was an appealing one to say the least, and if nothing else would give the impression that Robert hadn't been waiting around for him, that their little affair had been meaningless sex. 

 

"What, would you be jealous?" Robert drawled, settling for a response that was neither and outright  _ no _ nor a clear  _ yes.  _ The smugness in his demeanor was dashed soon enough by a purposeful curl of Joseph's finger that punched a groan from Robert's chest and had his hips bucking up from the mattress.  _ Damn _ , he knew exactly how to drive Robert crazy. It was a dangerous power to have, and perhaps if Robert had better judgment and less self-destructive tendencies, he might have realized what a stupid idea it was to be fucking Joseph a second time. He had enough vices in his life, why add another? 

 

But Robert was a weak man, and Joseph kept deliberately fucking his fingers against his prostate in such a way that Robert was squirming and panting in a matter of instant. He abandoned his cock, sure that if he kept pumping at it he was going to cum from just a few minutes of finger in and dirty talk. Instead, grabbed at Joseph's back, digging nail marks into his shoulders as payback for the hickey left on his throat. 

 

" _ Hah _ , fuck, Jo--" he groaned breathlessly and jerked his hips up from the mattress again. "Been thinking about you, yeah. You fucked pretty good for a married man."

 

Robert refused to give him a straightforward answer, and so had no one to blame but himself when Joseph pressed a third finger into his hole without any prior warning, cautious enough not to hurt the man but uncaring for the ache that Robert would be left with come morning. It agitated him,  _ yes _ , and Joseph wasn't beyond the very human emotion of  _ jealousy _ , especially when it came to someone like Robert - someone who could very well be the key to Joseph's freedom from his prison of a marriage. 

 

The sex didn't hurt, either, nor did the way Robert arched into the little licks of pain like he wanted more. 

 

Joseph was only more than happy (and just a little bit vindictive enough) to give them to him. His claws bit into Robert's thigh where they gripped and spread him nice and wide, leaving behind little half-moons and faintly raised welts, and his fingers prodded more insistently against Rob's prostate, drawing out of him a keening moan that Joseph committed to memory and resolved to pull from behind Robert's teeth as often as he possibly could. 

 

He relented, eventually, when the clench of Robert's ass and the heave of his stomach warned of his impending orgasm, and pulled his fingers entirely from his hole, petting over the fluttering pucker gently. "You're not half bad yourself," he said, tucking his chin down to kiss and bite at Robert's ankle. The fingers were back before Robert could get  _ too  _ impatient, three buried to the knuckle in Rob's tight hole and set on working him open until he was loose and sloppy. 

 

"' _ Specially  _ good at sucking dick." 

 

It figured that Joseph could be a cruel tease when he felt so inclined, but Robert was nonetheless taken aback when the pressure against his prostate abruptly vanished and left him reeling on the edge of a would-be orgasm. He grunted in frustration, hips bucking from the bed and foot jerking away from Joseph's wicked teeth so that he could cross his ankles behind Joseph's nape and drag him in closer. To his credit, Joseph was merciful enough not to leave Robert wanting for very long. Before he'd even had a chance to muster some snarky or goading comment, Robert felt three fingers push inside his ass again, accompanied by a lewd  _ squelch  _ of lube and a groan that Robert didn't manage to bite back. They sawed in and out of him with purpose this time, either incidentally or intentionally avoiding his prostate in such a way that set Robert's teeth on edge and had him digging his heels into Joseph's shoulders. 

 

"Yeah? That all you think I'm good at?" Robert said, breathless as he wrapped a hand around his dick and gave himself a few indulgent pumps. It wasn't going to take him much, teetering close to the edge as he still was, but right now Robert couldn't bring himself to care. It wasn't like he needed to stay hard for Joseph to fuck him, anyway. 

 

"I'm sure you're good at  _ much  _ more than that." Now if only Robert could last long enough to prove it. 

 

Joseph couldn't really blame him, though. He'd had a lot of practice in how to take people apart - both literally and sexually - and it was really his fault that he hadn't the patience nor any large desire to let Robert take the reins. 

 

He pitched forward, planting one hand by Robert's head just to have something to brace himself against while he dipped down and kissed Rob hard, biting at his mouth and the sharp jut of his chin until Robert dragged him back up, at the same time working his fingers into the tight clench of Robert's hole like he intended to make him cum from nothing but a little foreplay. Maybe he did. It'd worked so  _ well  _ last time, but Joseph wanted to be inside Robert before the man came - wanted to feel him clench and writhe as he drove into him and fucked an orgasm out of him, so he teased only a little longer, easing his fingers out of Robert's well-prepped hole some time later. He slicked his own dick up, settling on his knees once he'd worked Robert's legs open again, and took a moment just to  _ look _ , eagerly drinking in the sight Rob made with thighs wide and sweat-damp hair sticking to his forehead. 

 

" _ Gorgeous _ . Ready, darling?" 

 

Hearing words like  _ gorgeous  _ and  _ darling  _ leave Joseph's lips gave Robert more pause than he was willing to acknowledge. Honestly, he preferred it when Joseph talked dirty and derogatory rather than  _ sweet, _ and not only because Robert had a reputation of being a freak between the sheets. It was also a matter of maintaining a certain level of emotional distance -- from Joseph, from the men and women Robert slept with, from  _ anyone _ , for that matter. 

 

Of course, Joseph was probably just being facetious and not genuinely affectionate. The kiss had certainly been more violent than doting, which suited Robert just fine. He licked his swollen bottom lip and flashed Joseph a smug half-grin as he stretched against the mattress, knees pulled up toward his chest and thighs obediently kept spread. One hand was still wrapped firmly around his cock, stroking it lazily just to keep up with the sensation while he waited.

 

" _ Missionary _ , huh?" Robert sneered, though he seemed perfectly content to lay on his back while Joseph slicked himself up and then positioned himself between his thighs. "You sure you don't want me on my hands and knees, Father?"

 

"Maybe next time. I want to see your face," Joseph commented absently, slicking himself well with a few indulgent passes of his hand over his dick. Once he was satisfied - and it was hard not to be, with the view that Robert made spread out handsome and flushed before him - he finally nudged up against the tight curl of his pucker, pressing against it until it gave and the head of his dick popped inside. 

 

" _ Fuck _ ." It was just as good as last time. Maybe even better, cause Joseph'd had a month of pining and remembering and jerking himself off to an unsatisfying finish in the dead of night, and now that he had the real thing again he wasn't sure how he'd ever thought he could convince himself that drunken memory could ever stack up. He swore again, wrapping both claws around Rob's hips to keep him close - keep him right the fuck  _ there  _ \- while he drove his dick into the heat of Rob's body, sinking to the hilt before he finally grew still. 

 

His dick twitched - or maybe  _ writhed  _ \- as though searching for the raised bump of Robert's prostate, which Joseph prodded at persistently when he finally began to move, easing out just barely before jerking his hips forward once again. 

 

_ Fuck _ was right -- not to mention incredibly gratifying to hear coming from Joseph's publicly PG-rated mouth. In retrospect, it probably wasn't wise for Robert to keep jerking himself off considering how mind-blowingly  _ good _ it felt just having the fat head of Joseph's cock nudging inside him. But Robert never had been one to deny himself any vices, and so his hand continued working at his dick in short, desperate pulls as he relished in the welcome stretch in his ass. Joseph split him open and filled him up in a way Robert had vehemently missed this past sexually unfullfilling month. He'd been tempted on more than one occasion to make a trip to the sex shop downtown and find  _ something _ to scratch his near-incessant itch, but Robert had never really been one for using toys on his own, and he felt uncharacteristic reluctance to take home any male strangers on the nights he and Mary hit the bar. Instead, Robert had been left with nightly sessions of porn and a slew of fairly unsatisfying climaxes. Only on those notes when he felt energetic enough to work himself up to a few fingers up his ass to Robert feel anywhere close to fulfilled, but the sensation paled in comparison to Joseph's fingers, much less his dick. 

 

That being the case, perhaps it shouldn't have surprised Robert when Joseph began ruthlessly fucking into him and he found he was overwhelmed barely three thrusts in. In fact, no sooner had Joseph started moving did an orgasm punched the air from Robert's chest before he could think to clamp his fist around the base of his cock or twist away from the absurdly precise jabs against his prostate. Robert was instead left groaning and white-knuckling the sheets as heat and pleasure pooled through him, then eventually spilled from his dick in a few warm spurts that caught in the mat of hair on his chest and even got so far as his unshaven chin. It felt too good to feel embarrassed, at least at first, and so Robert made no show of shame or restraint as he bucked his hips against Joseph's groin and let out a few garbled swears. 

 

" _ Fuck yes _ , you feel fuckin'  _ perfect _ , Jo'," Robert rasped, one hand abandoning his spent cock (now too sensitive to the touch) to grab instead at Joseph's shoulder. It still felt too good for the shame to kick in -- after all, Robert was never (or-- alright,  _ rarely _ ) so pathetically quick to cum. 

 

It probably wasn't fair to judge - or to question whether or not Robert had some sort of ejaculatory dysfunction - based on two sole accounts of him coming a little too early (and granted, the first time Joseph had deliberately gone out of his way to suck Rob off), but it still gave him a moment of pause when Rob spent himself without any prior warning, jerking his dick in short, quick spasms and clenching tight enough around Jo's dick that he was almost afraid to move. 

 

The visual was gorgeous, though. Rob arched as much as he could and shot his load across the hairy expanse of his chest, smearing his torso and stomach in thick globs of white until his dick started to go soft and sensitive. 

 

"So impatient. Couldn't even wait for me to get it in, could you?" Joseph jerked his hips again, gasping and dropping his shoulders when Robert clenched around him in response. He had more leverage, with both hands planted on the mattress on either side of Rob's head, to really get in deep, knees shoved up against Rob's thighs and dick at the perfect angle to nudge against Rob's sensitive prostate every time Jo sawed into him. 

 

In the comedown, Robert still felt too good to care how quick he'd come -- at least, not until Joseph called him out on it.  _ Smug bastard. _ Robert threw him a glower and grunted half in dismay and half in exhausted pleasure as Joseph fucked into him hard enough to slide Robert across the mattress. He dug his blunt nails into the back of Joseph's shoulders somewhat vindictively, his dick uselessly twitching as every hard thrust had Joseph's cock jabbing his prostate. It was beginning to feel overwhelming in a way that erred on unpleasant and  _ too much,  _ and Robert had an inkling that this was Joseph's intention. He certainly seemed to be making a point of aiming his thrusts just-so, and by now Robert was curling his toes every time Joseph's hips snapped forward, and digging his nails deeper into his shoulders until he was sure he was leaving angry red welts. 

 

" _ Fuck _ ," Robert hissed through his clenched jaw, overstimulation turning him into a breathless, shaky mess. Joseph didn't seem to be slowing down or anywhere near stopping, ever-relentless in pounding into Robert's prostate until he couldn't help but let out a ragged groan. He dug his heels into Joseph's ass, then, as though trying to urge him to fuck harder and faster -- and hopefully cum before Robert lost his goddamned mind. 

 

"C' _ mon,  _ Jo. You gonna cum in my ass this time?" 

 

" _ Might  _ do." Robert was already a mess - sweat and cum and spit from when Joseph had kissed him a little too sloppy - but Jo couldn't deny the desire to make an even bigger mess of the man. He'd looked so good with cum smeared across his cheeks, last time. 

 

Still, there was a certain appeal to coming  _ in  _ him, too. 

 

Joseph grunted when Rob's nails dug into his skin, retaliating with the hard slap of his hips against the curve of Robert's ass. He wasn't going to last long at such a sharp, brutal pace, but it seemed to be what Robert wanted - what he begged for with those teasing jibes and the clench of his body around Joseph's dick - and Joseph was powerless to resist it. 

 

In the end, he shouldn't of been surprised by how quickly he flew over the edge, and how the brief lapse of his concentration resulted in the inhuman surge of his dick against Robert's well-abused prostate. It was not the only change, but luckily, Robert's eyes were screwed tight shut against the view of Joseph's darkened sclera and sharp, pointed fangs, and by the time he opened them again Jo already had his face buried in the side of his neck, claws twisting in the sheets while he pumped his hips once, twice more and finally came, groan muffled by Robert's skin and ass clenched like he could bury himself just a little bit deeper if he tried hard enough. 

 

There was no alcohol to blame for what Robert felt when Joseph ( _ finally _ ) gave a few rough, aborted thrusts and came inside him with a moan. It felt as though Joseph had somehow buried himself even deeper inside Robert's ass, the stretch of his cock -- which pulsed and twitched to the point of feeling impossibly  _ bigger _ \-- leaving Robert's eyes watering behind his tightly shut eyelids. Then there was the unexpectedly hot sting of Joseph's spunk as it liberally coated Robert's insides, far hotter than it had any right to be, not to mention far more  _ plentiful _ . What, had Joseph not cum since their drunken fling? It certainly seemed that way, what with the fact that he just kept cumming, his dick pulsing and nudging against Robert's prostate until he couldn't take it any longer. The pressure was too much, to the point where Robert felt he was on the verge of another orgasm, and while normally that would have been desirable, right then it felt more uncomfortable than anything. He grunted and pushed at Joseph's shoulders, trying to dislodge the man from inside and on top of him. Joseph, meanwhile, had nuzzled against Robert's throat and seemed unwilling to budge from his place.

 

Eventually --  _ thankfully _ \-- Joseph seemed to clue in, at least insofar as he pulled out. The relief was instant, so much so that Robert let out a quiet hiss at the lack of insistent pressure against his prostate. His ass still ached, and Joseph's spunk still felt strangely, uncomfortably hot as it trickled from his sore rim and undoubtedly made a mess of the sheets. Even so, Robert was content to languish in their combined mess a while longer, at least until Joseph's weight atop him began to grow confining rather than comfortable and Robert felt himself itching for a fix of nicotine.

 

With a disgruntled grumble, he shoved Joseph off him and rolled onto his side so as to fish out a half-empty pack of cigarettes from his nightstand. Robert kept his back turned until he'd lit up, at which point he rolled over and dazedly observed the ceiling as he took a long, grateful drag and relished in the invigorating rush that worked though his sore and fucked-out body.

 

"You know," he muttered, voice hoarse and gravelly as he blew a plume of smoke overhead. "That wasn't  _ actually  _ why I called you over."

 

Robert took another drag, then -- more to see Joseph's reaction than out of politeness -- offered him the cigarette with a wordless nudge of his elbow.

 

Joseph might've been content to lounge right there between Robert's thighs, had Robert not taken to shoving him off with a disgruntled little noise and no small amount of force. He relented, after a quiet huff and a needlessly-tender kiss pressed to the side of his throat, rolling away and onto his side. His eyes were normal, his teeth blunt, his fingers neatly-manicured, but he still grinned a little wicked, smug like he'd just won a prize for jizzing in another man's ass. 

 

Maybe it was just that little bit of something possessive curling through him; it happened, sometimes, when he met someone  _ special _ , and it was in his nature to get easily attached. 

 

He watched Robert's back while the man shuffled around in his nightstand, rolling to his own back once the cigarettes and lighter came into view, not surprised in the least that Rob would crave a hit of nicotine after fucking like that. He wasn't surprised, either, by the offer, though the confession that accompanied it gave him a moment of pause, one brow arching and the lazy grin he wore starting to slip away. 

 

"Oh?" He took too the cigarette -  _ more to see Robert's reaction than out of politeness _ \- and sucked on the filter while he waited, filling his lunge with nicotine and blowing a steady stream of smoke from  the corner of his mouth. Somehow, he managed to keep a straight face, even though it'd been a while and the way tears immediately sprang to his eyes surely belied his need to cough, but he managed to swallow a few time and hand the cigarette back without incident, rolling back onto his side just to drape an arm around Rob's waist. 

 

"Why'd you call, then?"

 

Robert hadn't anticipated that Joseph would take him up on his offer, but he also wasn't altogether surprised. It seemed so fitting given all of Joseph's other secret vices, not to mention the fact that he looked damn  _ good _ biting down on one end of a cigarette. Robert watched on in appreciative silence as Joseph took in a deep lungful and then exhaled a thick plume of smoke that curled past his lips. It was awfully tempting to lean closer and press his lips to Joseph's, to taste the nicotine and salt on his tongue, but Robert refrained -- for the time being, anyway.

 

Instead he smirked at the glistening tears and slight redness to Joseph's eyes, but otherwise did not comment on the fact that Joseph was sorely out of practice. It figured he hadn't smoked anything in a while -- it wouldn't do for the youth minister to smell like cigarettes, after all. Robert, thankfully, faced no such limitation, and so he gladly took another long drag when Joseph passed the cigarette back. He tried not to pay much heed to the way Joseph had shuffled closer and wrapped an arm around him, unsure of whether to perceive the gesture as possessive or affectionate or a little bit of both. Either way, Robert should be shoving away and finishing his cigarette elsewhere. He wasn't a cuddler on principle, not to mention that cuddling wasn't conducive to fucking without attachment. 

 

And yet, Robert didn't budge an inch, still puffing away at his cigarette before he passed it off to Joseph once more.

 

"I think my place is haunted," Robert said, matter-of-fact in such a way that it was hard to tell if he was being serious or just delivering another one of his deadpan 'jokes'. "Thought maybe you could help, or something."

 

Maybe it was a bit of both. 

 

Robert was comfortable and Joseph liked cuddling, and it'd been far too long since last he'd held someone in his arms like this. Sometimes, he missed the simple pleasures, and since Robert wasn't shoving him away, he felt confident enough to nuzzle his nose against Rob's side, sighing contentedly against his skin. 

 

He was even amicable enough to take the cigarette back, feeling that second drag go down much smoother. It still scratched his throat - hot and uncomfortable - but Joseph no longer looked like he was going to cry, though he very nearly choked on smoke when Robert finished his explanation. 

 

" _ Haunted _ ?" The notion was absurd, and the way that Robert spoke made it seem like one of his tasteless jokes, though, maybe... After their run-in with the Abbey Creeper, Joseph wasn't really surprised that Robert saw ghosts and ghouls at every corner. Plus, a haunting might explain the unease that he himself felt - just a little twinge that could have just as easily been chalked up to guilt over this affair - when  he'd first come into the house and dragged Robert into a kiss. 

 

"What makes you think your house is haunted?" He took the cigarette a third time when it was offered to him and pillowed his head on Robert's chest before handing it back, nuzzling in close and comfortable like he was set to stay the night. "Moreover, what makes you think I have any knowledge of how to help you, if you happened to be?" 

 

Joseph sounded about as skeptical as Robert expected him to, though after their run-in with that  _ thing _ at the abbey, Robert wasn't so quick to assume that all the strangeness he'd been seeing was purely his drunk imagination. Maybe some of it was. Hell, maybe  _ most _ of it was. But perhaps with Joseph here, all those strange and unsettling daily encounters might be revealed for what they truly were -- either nothing at all, or  _ something  _ otherworldly. 

 

Robert watched on silently as Joseph took another hit from the lit cig, relishing in the sight. Was it weird to think Joseph looked hot puffing away at a cigarette? Probably, but Robert was shameless and couldn't bring himself to care. He made a point of brushing his fingertips along Joseph's hand when he passed Robert the cigarette back, and took his time leaning away to tap off the ashes in the silver tray on his nightstand before he bothered answering the question. 

 

"It started a few weeks ago with my stuff showing up in weird places. Didn't think much of it then, not until I started  _ seeing  _ that same stuff move around," Robert explained at length. He couldn't help the way his tone changed in the same way it always did when he was sharing ghost stories or (usually bullshit) recounts of run-ins he'd had with some local cryptid. Old habits died hard. "A lot of my shit flying off shelves. Usually my DVDs. Then there were randkm chills throughout the house -- Brian offered to look at my A/C, but he couldn't find anything wrong with it. And Betsy's been barking at thin air, which isn't like her."

 

Robert paused to take another drag, holding the smoke in his lungs a few seconds longer before breathing it out with a sigh. 

 

"It's been a weird month," he confessed, leaning away again, this time to snub out his half-finished cigarette. "Anyway, I thought maybe you could... I dunno, perform an exorcism? Did they teach you that in priest school?" 

 

It was difficult to tell if Robert was being facetious or not, what with his deadpan expression. 

 

The last of the smoke escaped from his nostrils, puffed out and rolling in thin waves over Robert's chest only to dissipate into the air before it could make any reasonable headway. 

 

Maybe there was something to be said for Robert's supposed ghost. It would be  _ odd _ , admittedly. The only kinds of undead that could leave the place they passed were poltergeists, but Robert's house - the whole neighborhood, really - was fairly new, built around the outskirts of a major metropolitan area in the nineties. It was quiet and unassuming, and the tenant - while  _ neither  _ quiet nor unassuming - didn't make himself out to be the sort of man who invited ghosts into his home. 

 

_ Demons _ , on the other hand...

 

Joseph pursed his lips, staring across the expanse of Rob's chest and at the far wall while he thought. 

 

"I went to a four-year university, Rob," he finally deadpanned, curling his hand around Robert's side when it became clear that the cigarette would no longer be offered to him. "Unfortunately not enough people signed up for the exorcism class for it to make." 

 

Surely it was nothing. Surely - undoubtedly - Robert's imagination was getting the best of him, or he was, in what Joseph had discovered to be a fairly typical manner - just pulling his leg with some nonsense story about ghosts. There would be no reason for one to come to his house, not unless it thought it could get something worthwhile from the trip. And what did Robert have, besides an electric personality and so much untapped  _ potential _ ? 

 

"I know a few things, and if it'll help you sleep better at night, I could - I dunno - bring by some holy water and incense in the morning? I'd be happy to ask for a blessing on your home." 

 

It sounded a little ridiculous when Joseph said it out loud; after all, what was a bottle of blessed water and some dusty smelling incense going to do? If ghosts were real -- and the jury was still out on that one, as far as Robert was concerned -- then who was to say water and smoke would have any effect on them? 

 

Then again, at this point, Robert was willing to try anything. He hadn't had a peaceful night's sleep since the last time he'd passed out drunk in his truck (last weekend, in fact), so if there was even a  _ miniscule _ chance that Joseph's suggestion might work... 

 

"Sounds like a plan," Robert said, voice a deep rumble as he settled back against the pillows and threw a forearm across his eyes to block out the daylight. Joseph still hadn't moved from where he'd slung an arm around Robert's waist, and Robert still hadn't moved away or told him off for it. Hell, if anything, maybe now was his chance to get in a power nap. It was certainly easier to relax with someone else in the house, and it wasn't long before Robert could feel himself beginning to doze. 

 

"M'gonna nap," he muttered, as if that wasn't already apparent. Maybe an exorcism wasn't needed, after all. Maybe all Joseph had to do was fuck him good and tired until Robert couldn't help but pass out. He liked this alternative; it was more effective than alcohol, at any rate, for no sooner than Robert announced his decision to sleep, he was drifting off with a muffled snore. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone curious:
> 
> Fresh wrote for Joseph  
> Tea wrote for Robert  
> 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein there's an exorcism, a possession, a dick-sucking ghost, and some regular, old-fashioned, demon sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This account is run and managed by two people: Tea and Fresh.
> 
> We are RP partners, and we're using this platform to unload our (copious) number of RPs.  
> Mostly smut, tbh.
> 
> The POV changes frequently, given the nature of roleplay writing, and if there are any noticeable continuity gaps it's 100% because the rp was abandoned for a few days/weeks before getting picked up again.
> 
> None of these works have been edited, touched up, or polished.

Robert made good on his promise of napping, and Joseph wasn't far behind. He dozed off not long after Robert's breath evened out, still luxuriating across Rob's chest with his head tucked under his chin and the sheets twisted around his ankles. 

 

He woke up, as luck would have it, before Robert did. That gave him plenty of time to put himself together. He dislodged himself from where he'd been spooned up against Robert's side, slipped out of the bed, showered and ran his fingers through his hair and put his pants back on in the dim quiet of what seemed to be early evening. The sun was just starting to set outside the kitchen window, and the dog clamored up to him, seemingly unafraid so long as he offered her some fried scraps of turkey sausage from a package left open in the fridge. 

 

Joseph pet her and marveled at the stupidity of some creatures - really not unlike humans in their loyalty, so long as their hunger got sated and their itches scratched - before she grew bored (or remembered her initial wariness) and padded away, disappearing back into the living room.

 

It was quiet while Joseph whipped up a quick dinner with whatever he could get his hands on; there was no banging from anywhere in the house, no flying objects, no patches of ice cold in isolated areas. 

 

He was all but convinced that Robert had dreamt up his ghost (or made convenient excuse to get Joseph to come over) when he brought two platters loaded up with roast potatoes, garlic butter, and shredded, melted cheese into the bedroom, thoughts idling through a potential list of  _ necessary groceries _ he might just have to text the other man (a diet of whisky and deli meat couldn't possibly be sustainable). Those thoughts were summarily banished from his mind the moment he stepped into the room. 

 

There was a certain chill in the air, but that wasn't even what caught Joseph's attention first. 

 

On the bed, situated far too comfortably between Robert's legs - a creature, a thing, a  _ presence  _ \- bobbing in an unmistakable fashion with what Joseph could only assume was its mouth. It flashed in and out of reality, with cilia writhing around what was  _ very  _ obviously Robert's dick, but Robert was blissfully unaware, still be asleep though clearly not for long, the way his hips twitched and his breath stuttered around a rough moan. 

 

Robert had woken up to blowjobs on a number of occasions in the past, but it wasn't a luxury he'd experienced in more recent times, what with his tendency to kick bed partners out after he'd finished his post-sex cigarette. Joseph was different. For whatever reason --  _ loneliness _ , probably -- Robert hadn't been able to bring himself to toss Joseph out of bed despite that he'd never had any trouble doing so with his previous string of partners. It was probably ill-advised, but it was difficult to regret his decision when Robert blinked awake to the white popcorn ceiling and a warm, wet mouth engulfing his cock. He was already teetering on the brink of an orgasm when consciousness returned to him; clearly Joseph had been busy sucking him off for God knows how long. He'd been busy cooking, too, if the tantalizing smell of garlic wafting through the bedroom was any indication. Dinner  _ and _ blowjobs in bed? Robert had to wonder what he'd done right to deserve this kind of wake-up call.

 

Groaning and closing his eyes once more, Robert arched against the mattress and gently fucked up into the heat of Joseph's mouth. There was more give to it than he expected, his cock somehow not finding the tight clench of Joseph's throat despite how deep it felt like he was. Then again, Robert was still waking up, and it felt too good to really care about such a minor, insignificant detail.

 

" _ Fuck _ yes, Jo'," Robert murmured, voice raspy with sleep and eyelids still squeezed shut as he continued rocking his hips. He could feel his orgasm creeping up on him, so close that Robert could feel his balls draw tight and his toes begin to curl. By way of warning -- and so that he had a good handhold to keep fucking into Joseph's mouth -- Robert reached down to grab a fistful of his hair.

 

Only... there wasn't anything to grab onto. Robert's fingertips found thin air, and the lack of any solid form between his thighs when there clearly  _ should be _ threw Robert so off-kilter that his orgasm all at once dissipated. He could still feel something hot and wet around his dick, so real that he could have  _ sworn _ he wasn't dreaming -- but he had to be, because he'd had far too many feverish morning dreams like this where he'd woken up with cum on his stomach and vague memories of something wrapped around his cock.

 

Feeling a chill run down his spine, Robert's eyes snapped open and toward the foot of the bed. His dick was flushed and leaking, still wet from what had to be saliva, but there was no Joseph -- not anywhere nearby, at least, and somehow Robert doubted he'd stopped mid-blowjob to go fix them dinner and then gawk in the doorway. If nothing else, the  _ look _ on Joseph's face said otherwise. It wasn't the face of a man who had just walked in on a lover mid-wet dream; hell, judging by the tension in his jaw and the shade of fury in his eyes, Joseph looked like he'd just walked in on Robert fucking someone  _ else _ .

 

Well, at least it wasn't someone else's name that Robert had moaned. If Joseph hadn't in that moment been far too busy being utterly livid, he might've felt smug about whatever wet dream Robert was so clearly caught up in.

 

Instead, he had to resist the urge to throw the hot plates at the apparition - as much because that would make a mess as because they would simply go right through the ghost and end up burning Robert's bare crotch - and instead reeled himself in, exhaling sharply through his nose once, twice, a third time, until he no longer felt like raising hell. 

 

There was a way to do this that was  _ efficient _ , and a way to do this that wouldn't alert Robert to Joseph's true nature, but it was hard to be reasonable when Joseph's sight was clouded by a haze of red. What kind of creature even had the  _ gall  _ to pull a stunt like that? Surely it had known what Joseph's was from the very start. It was undoubtedly why it had remained so quiet and hidden away until this very moment, but did it truly think that Joseph wasn't going to return? That he wasn't going to  _ notice _ ? 

 

"Put some pants on." There was no hiding that they had both seen the same thing, the way Robert stared him down like a deer caught in headlights, eyes wide and jaw slack and dick soft and wet. 

 

"I need to return to my place to grab a few things. Don't think you want to stick around here while I'm gone." 

 

From the living room there came a distinct sound of barking, followed shortly by the clatter of DVDs on the floor. The thing was throwing a fucking  _ tantrum  _ now, too? 

 

Joseph clenched his jaw and dropped both plates onto the nearest flat surface, abandoning them to cool and coagulate into an unappetizing mess as he turned heel and stormed back through the house to assess the damage. He nearly got pegged in the head with a Bond movie in the process, coming to a standstill at the entrance to the living room, where Betsy - bless her heart - stood on the couch, hackles raised while she barked in the approximate direction of one of the DVD shelves. 

 

"Collect your dog, too," Joseph called back towards Robert's bedroom. The ghost wouldn't -  _ couldn't  _ \- hurt her, but Betsy was too keyed up to be useful and Robert probably wouldn't of wanted to leave her, anyway. 

 

Robert didn't actually know what Joseph had seen; after all, all  _ he _ had caught a glimpse at was thin air, but going by Joseph's reaction there must have been something there. A figure, perhaps? Had Joseph seen someone else between Robert's legs when he'd first walked in? 

 

Oh--  _ fuck _ , had Robert been getting sucked off by a  _ ghost _ ?!

 

The chills running down his spine were soon joined by something akin to nausea, and Robert was so dazed and disturbed that he barely registered that Joseph had stormed from the bedroom, that he was saying something from down the corridor. He registered, at least, the need to throw on pants and follow Joseph wherever he was going. There was no way in hell that Robert was going to stay behind in a house to be violated by some poltergeist without a sense of personal space or consent.  _ Fuck _ , had that seriously happened? Moreover, were all those hazy wet dreams that had been going on for the past couple weeks  _ real life _ ? Was whatever was haunting Robert's place some kind of serial somnophiliac?

 

Robert rolled clumsily out of bed, fumbling for underwear and pants without bothering to check if they were clean or not. He grabbed a shirt and yanked it on as he stumbled down the hallway, hearing the  _ clacks _ of DVD cases hitting the wall and piling on the carpet joined by the sounds of Betsy's agitated barks and growls. He probably looked like a mess -- shirt half-on, hair in disarray, face a little white -- but all that Robert really cared about right then was getting his dog and getting  _ out _ long enough to figure out what the hell had just happened.

 

And maybe also finding the nearest bar and dousing his nerves with a few shots of whiskey.

 

Without a word, Robert scooped Betsy up into his arms just as another DVD case flung across the room and narrowly missed his head. They didn't usually move with such violence, and just knowing that this was happening now, with Joseph there to see it...

 

"Tell me I didn't just hallucinate all of that," Robert said once he and Joseph were outside in the driveway, Betsy snuffling against Robert's shoulder as he cradled her in his arms. He threw a nervous glance back at the house just in time to spot another case clatter against the front window, at which point Robert promptly decided there was no way in  _ hell _ he was going back inside.

 

It probably would have been  _ easier _ if Robert had simply hallucinated the last few minutes of his life. It wouldn't of forced Joseph to have to come up with some reasonable-sounding explanation for how he knew so much about what he was about to do. 

 

He said nothing as they crossed the street, the sounds of flying DVDs fading behind them. Luckily, the curtains were drawn and the lights were dim, so even were someone to walk by, they wouldn't necessarily question the ruckus.

 

"I don't know what you want me to say, Rob." They were halfway across the street when Joseph finally spoke, sighing and fishing in his pocket for his keys. "If you want to convince yourself it was a dream, you  _ can _ ." The mind was a powerful thing, after all. A beat passed with Jo patting down his pockets, still clearly agitated by what he'd seen, then finally pulled out his keys, clicking open the garage lock with a triumphant-sounding grunt. 

 

"But I thought you  _ liked _ cryptids."

 

Most of the stuff they would need was conveniently tucked away in the garage - some chalk, some salt, a box of half-burned votive candles, made of beeswax and smelling faintly like honey. There were just a couple of things inside, and Joseph left Robert and Betsy standing awkwardly in the garage while he went to fetch the rest, grabbing black ash and holy water and a cross - larger than the one he wore at all times around his neck. 

 

The last thing he needed was to change, hastily tugging on his vestments and collar. He adjusted it in the hallway mirror, about to leave again when from the living room twin voices piped up, eerily synchronous and pitched to the same monotone: "Where are you going, father?" 

 

Joseph could've sworn he'd heard the two of them upstairs not moments before, and they would've had to walk past him in order to get to the living room on-foot. "Christian? Christie? What did I tell you?" There was a pause - Joseph didn't even bother looking in the room, he knew they weren't there - then, "Sorry, Dad."

 

"Daddy has a work emergency, kids. Tell your mother I'll be home late."

 

_ Liking _ cryptids and ghost stories didn't equate to wanting to find oneself smack in the middle of a haunting. Just because Robert got a kick out of poking around abandoned buildings and quiet woodlands late at night didn't mean he was gun-ho about waking up to some kind of supernatural entity sucking his dick. And --  _ yeah _ , alright, maybe with time he could look back on this terrifying experience and laugh a little, if only to feel less unsettled by the whole affair, but right now? Right now Robert was too freaked out to feel fascinated, too  _ violated _ to feel any amount of wonder that he was experiencing his second run-in with the inexplicable in the period of a month. 

 

Robert chewed at his lip while Joseph clamored about his garage before disappearing inside his house. He would kill for a cigarette, right then, or maybe a bottle of Jack to take the edge off. Hell, tequila would do in a pinch -- maybe he should pop inside and ask Joseph to bring out a bottle along with whatever the hell else he was assembling.

 

In fact, it was a bit weird how abruptly Joseph had gone from guardedly skeptical to righteously hellbent on tackling Robert's ghost problem. What had he seen, exactly? Had he been playing dumb this entire time? Also, who kept that many candles and boxes of salt in their garage, anyway?

 

Robert had so many more questions that begged asking, but by the time Joseph stepped back out carrying a box of supplies and wearing his priestly vestments, all those thoughts and queries promptly died on Robert's tongue. He gawked openly at Joseph, ghost forgotten just long enough to come to the realization that,  _ yeah _ , maybe he had a previously-unknown kink for clergymen, after all.

 

But that thought was promptly tucked away for later processing; after all, the fact that Joseph had just stormed out dressed in his cassock must mean he was serious about this whole exorcism business. Which begged another almost-forgotten, but particularly important question.

 

"I thought you said they didn't teach you exorcisms in priest school," Robert said, sounding a bit dumbstruck as he slowly trailed Joseph out of the garage. Betsy was staring, too, perhaps just as bemused as Robert was. "Is there something you aren't telling me, Jo'? Because I'm starting to wonder..."

 

"I've done my fair share of research," Joseph lied smoothly. He'd had a few moments while inside to come up with something appropriately believable, and he relieved Robert of some of his supplies with a heavy sigh, stacking a box of chalk on top of everything else. 

 

"But I don't exactly go around advertising it, you know? Most of the time people call in looking for an exorcism what they really need is a psychiatrist, because this kind of stuff? We get calls about it at least a half dozen times a week, Rob." He closed the garage behind them, leading the way again back across the street and towards Robert's house. 

 

"Most of the time it's nonsense, and when it isn't, it's never been this violent." More lies; just a few weeks ago, Joseph had banished the Creeper for good. Maybe he'd overlooked something else that got released at the Abbey, or maybe this poltergeist had sensed some spike of power from wherever it had previously made its' home. Whatever the case, the thing was here now and complicating the situation far too much. 

 

"Anyway. I thought you were pulling my leg or trying to get a rise out of me, when you brought it up."

 

Joseph's explanation made sense, Robert supposed -- or, at least, it made about as much sense as an explanation for ghosts and exorcisms could right about then. Honestly, it felt as though Robert was just along for the ride at this point. For all that he liked ghost stories and horror films, he'd never taken any of it seriously enough to start carrying around crucifixes or holding candlelit seances. Joseph, on the other hand, had seen enough of the supernatural to research how to deal with hauntings.

 

That, or this was all a really, really elaborate prank. Robert couldn't tell anymore. This might all be a supremely lucid fever-dream for all that he was aware. Again, he was just along for the ride -- he might as well see what this all led to.

 

"Wish I had been," Robert muttered, following close on Joseph's heels and vaguely aware of the prickling on the back of his neck that told him someone was watching. Sure enough, when Robert hazarded a glance toward the cul-de-sac he spotted outside peering at them from beneath the wide brim of his sun hat. He paused from pruning his rose bushes to politely wave, but -- still holding Betsy with both hands -- Robert managed only an acknowledging nod. How must this look to anyone watching from the outside? Robert was walking around with his dog in his arms, following after Joseph who was striding up his front steps in full minister's regalia and a box in his arms. 

 

"Hey, uh--" Robert awkwardly cleared his throat as they reached the front door. "Are the robes really necessary for this?"

 

"Do you think I'd be wearing them if they weren't?" Joseph wasn't unaware of how absurd they looked: he, dressed in garb a modern, suburban priest wouldn't be caught dead in unless he was officiating a wedding or a funeral and Robert with his dog slung up in his arms both booking it towards Robert's home like they were late for something important. It was absurd, and Joseph had no doubt that anyone who saw them would certainly talk about it. 

 

Maybe he could convince Mary to do something about it, or otherwise take care of anyone too nosy himself, once this more pressing of matters was dealt with. 

 

The door was surprisingly still unlocked, and the house itself was eerily quiet, as though the ghost had realized the grave mistake it had made in throwing such a tantrum and vanished before Joseph could return. It couldn't of gone far, though. The living room was still icy-cold, and it wasn't so easy for a poltergeist to leave a home once it had made itself comfortable. 

 

Joseph stepped over a small, haphazard pile of DVDs and dropped his materials onto the floor, peering around the room and into the dark corners where reality seemed to bend just enough to cause concern. 

 

"My vestments are like armor." They made his skin ache, where the material brushed against his exposed arms and throat, and left patches of angry pink behind that he would sport for several days before they faded like a light rash. He'd have to re-wax the inside again, after all this was said and done. "They were blessed after construction, and should, theoretically, keep me from getting murdered and-or possessed, if things go bad." The latter couldn't possibly happen, for reasons that were obvious to Joseph, but as strong as he was he could still die - more or less - and so it didn't hurt to have extra protection. 

 

Plus, a bit of authenticity would make Robert more likely to not question him, to begin with. 

 

"You might want to put Betsy in another room for this." 

 

Robert wasn't sure he knew what an exorcism involved -- were they anything like in the the movies and shows? -- but he wasn't about to keep Betsy in the thick of things. So, while Joseph began to set up in the living room, Robert cautiously made his way across the DVD case-littered floor and took Betsy into the bathroom, where he gently set her down on the floor before closing the door behind him. When he returned to the living room, it was to linger awkwardly in the threshold while he watched Joseph set about removing all of the items from the box he'd brought over. And --  _ yeah -- _ he may or may not have stolen a quick glance at Joseph's ass when his back was turned. The whole haunted house thing aside, Joseph looked damn  _ god _ in that cassock. The black was a nice change from all those obnoxiously bright polos and sweaters he tended to wear, at any rate.

 

"So," Robert said, sounding and looking distinctly awkward and ill at ease as he leaned up against the wall. He had to fold his arms across his chest to fend away the preternatural chill in the room, though he wasn't sure if the prickling at the back of his neck was just his nerves kicking in or something  _ else _ .

 

Either way, it freaked him the hell out.

 

"You -- uh -- you said those robes keep you from getting possessed and murdered, right?" he cleared his throat nervously, trying (and failing) not to look even half as spooked as he felt. "What's that mean for me?"

 

It wouldn't be long before the ghost caught on to what was happening here, and even less time after before it began to retaliate. Considering how mild it had been up to this point, however (and though getting pegged with a DVD case would have undoubtedly  _ hurt _ ) Joseph doubted it would be particularly violent, even while threatened. 

 

Then again, Joseph had underestimated the supernatural before, cocky and overly confident in his own abilities and not often forced to consider any mortal lives that could be at stake. Robert did have a point, nonchalantly as he tried to pose his question. 

 

"Means that you should stay back," he said, shuffling through one of the boxes with his mouth pulled into a thin frown. 

 

"Here." A cross was tossed Rob's way, golden and dangling from a thin chain. "It shouldn't be difficult to contain the thing - whatever it is - but hold on to that, just in case, and stick close to me."

 

Robert had been raised catholic, but he'd never been much of a believer -- not like his ma, at any rate, who had made a point of always wearing a cross around her neck. As he caught the one Joseph threw to him, Robert wondered if it was a habit he should have picked up, after all. Maybe he would start to if this exorcism proved to be more than some uncharacteristically intricate hoax on Joseph's part.

 

In the meantime, Robert fastened the chain around his neck and then resumed folding his arms and watching Joseph get to work. He moved with all the surety of someone who had done this before -- _ routinely,  _ at that -- which was both reassuring and a little odd. Just how many exorcisms had Joseph had to perform as a youth minister, anyway? Hadn't he said before that his job mostly involved counselling kids and chaperoning church activities?

 

There was a quiet growl from the bathroom, followed by a series of loud scratches as Betsy began clawing at the door frame. Another chill ran down Robert's spine, far stronger than the one he'd already been feeling. He hugged his arms tighter to his chest and threw a nervous glance over his shoulder. It felt as though something had brushed past him from the hallway -- worse still, it felt like the presence was  _ watching _ him. It could very well just be his paranoia, but he was nonetheless put on-edge by the insistent, crawling feeling down the nape of his neck.

 

"Think we could speed this up a little?" he muttered, casting another wary look toward the hallway. It already felt like the room had dropped another few degrees, and Robert couldn't seem to fight the instinctual spike of adrenaline that had his heart thumping hard against his chest and goosebumps spreading across his skin. 

 

Had Joseph the capability of going any faster, he most certainly would have done so by now. He didn't want to be dealing with this any longer than necessary, especially since it was Robert's home and Robert's life involved. Still, these things took time. He had to place the candles and light them, carefully drawing chalk lines on the coffee table in rounds and triangles and necessary sigils. It was time-consuming to do right, but right he had to do it, especially at such a small scale. 

 

Robert, unfortunately, did not have hardwood floors, and drawing chalk on carpet was all but impossible.

 

Joseph made do, though, and as the temperature in the room dropped to a goosebump inducing chill and as Betsy began to fret from behind the bathroom door, he finally lit up the first of the incense, moving around his makeshift trap until it was lit up and set. 

 

"I'm going... To need to ask you to do something." It was always easier with a host - with a little bit of  _ bait _ \- and as Joseph turned to face Robert once more, he knew that he was probably about to ask too much. Robert looked about ready to cuss him out, at any rate, even before Joseph opened his mouth again. 

 

"Don't feel obligated to agree, of course, but it would be easier - it's possible the entity was drawn to you because you're a good conduit for the supernatural -" some people fell into their hobbies because they were predispositioned ( _ predestined _ , even) to; it would explain why Robert was so much into cryptids. It would also explain why Joseph was so magnetically  _ attracted _ to him, "- and having you act as a channel for the thing would simplify the exorcism. If it's more grounded in our physical plane, I can trap it much more easily."

 

Either Joseph really was just fucking with him, or--

 

_ " _ You want me to be  _ bait _ ," Robert blurted, looking both taken aback and a bit affronted. What kind of exorcism involved having one of the participants willingly possessed? Wasn't that dangerous? Potentially fatal? Robert had no clue, but if this was all real and not an elaborate scheme to pull one over him, Joseph probably wouldn't have asked him unless it was truly necessary -- right? 

 

That wasn't to say that Robert was the least bit enthused with the idea of inviting some kind of perverted spirit to possess him. Hell, he didn't even know what that entailed. 

 

"Is this even a good idea?" he asked, speaking in an irate grumble that belied his nervousness as though his open displeasure might make Joseph give up on the idea entirely. "I mean, first you wanted me to stay back because it might be dangerous, and now... Now you want me to invite that  _ thing _ inside me?"

 

Yet despite his grousing, Robert moved away from where he'd been leaning against the wall, cautiously approaching the circle of candles and sigils that now decorated his coffee table in the middle of the living room. The air was so chilly by now that he could see each puff of breath as it condensed in a cloud before him -- Joseph's, strangely enough, appeared unaffected.

 

Robert dropped his arms from where they were crossed tightly across his chest, visibly agitated as he dug his nails into his palm and threw another glance over his shoulder. There was still nothing there -- nothing Robert could see, at any rate -- but it was impossible to shake the feeling that  _ something _ was looming nearby.

 

Whatever it was, real or imaginary, Robert wanted it  _ gone _ . If that meant acting as bait, well...

 

"What would I have to do?"

 

It was a horrible idea; one of the worst Joseph had had in recent memory. He didn't say anything to that effect, of course, gaze following the look that Rob threw over his shoulder towards the same corner of the room that looked like it was darker than the rest - like it sucked away the light that would normally have flooded every nook and cranny of the living room. 

 

"It will work," was the best that he could offer without outright lying. 

 

When Robert shuffled closer, looking chilled to the bone and right on the edge of skipping town and never coming back. It wouldn't help; if the creature was tied to him, rather than the house (as Joseph previously had assumed) it would be able to find and follow him wherever he went, uninhibited by such things as sacred places or solid foundations. 

 

"I need you to stand on the table, right in the middle, here." Without displacing the chalk lines, Joseph helped Robert settle in between the candles, adjusting his stance until he was standing - looking a little foolish, admittedly - on top of the entrapment circle. "Just... Pray, if you do." Either way wouldn't help him, but if Robert found some comfort in it, then it couldn't possibly  _ hurt _ . 

 

"You might see or feel some things that don't make a lot of sense. Remember to take deep breaths; it'll be over really quickly, okay? I promise I won't let you get hurt." 

 

From one of the boxes, Joseph pulled a dagger. It was one of those things that looked like it was better suited displayed behind some glass in a history museum, not stored in the garage of a white suburban household. The blade was paper-thin, sharpened to a dangerous point that would hurt the user just as quickly as it would decimate an enemy. Joseph used it to prick his finger, hissing when it stung far more than it had any right to. Such was the nature of sacred objects. A drop of dark blood - black and brackish - landed in a small bowl at the point of the pentagram he'd drawn, and after wrapping his finger in a tissue, Joseph held his hand out for Robert to take. "It'll start once I get a blood offering. Now's the time to back out, if you're anxious. Other methods  _ can  _ be successful, so don't feel guilty if you don't think you can go through with this, but they do take more time." 

 

Backing out was probably the sanest thing to do, at this point. If all of this was real, then it was probably also dangerous enough that Robert shouldn't be fucking around with it. He was admittedly still freaked out enough that outright  _ leaving _ was an enticing option, but for all that Robert was afraid, he was a reckless man by nature -- and a self-destructive one, at that. 

 

There was also the not insignificant fact that he was holding on to the suspicion that this might all be some kind of prank. In which case, what was a little finger prick just to follow out Joseph's theatrics to their inevitable conclusion? Worse case scenario, he found himself possessed -- and who said that was so terrible?

 

Well... Alright, Robert had seen  _ The Exorcism _ enough times to guess it wasn't going to be a pleasant experience, but neither was feeling a constant, crushing dread in his own house. Better to end this now.

 

Robert eyed the dagger in Joseph's hand, unable to help but marvel at its intricately carved pommel and curved blade. Since when did Joseph carry around cool knives? Tempted though he was to comment, nervousness had Robert biting his tongue rather than saying a word. He continued digging his nails against his palms out of anxious habit, feeling (and no doubt looking) ridiculous and uneasy as he stood on the coffee table. He watched on in tight-lipped silence as Joseph pricked one of his fingers, mentally noting that this ritual looked more like something a Satanic cultist might carry out in their basement. He decided against remarking on this aloud, but it nagged at him along with everything else strange and incongruent about Joseph.

 

"Fuck it," he muttered at length, after having spent a good few seconds staring contemplatively at Joseph's proffered hand. Robert held his out before he could think on it any longer, because, honestly? It felt like today couldn't possibly get any more fucked up, at this point.

 

The dagger was sharp enough to break the skin of his callused index finger with a single, gentle swipe, and while Joseph's reaction had been more vocal, Robert barely flinched. It felt like the cut of a razor, barely painful but cutting deeply enough that Joseph was easily able to squeeze a fat droplet of blood from the wound. He collected it in the same bowl he had taken his own 'blood offering', and Robert watched on in silence as he proceeded to chant in what sounded like Latin. It was weird and cliched enough that Robert began to seriously think this  _ was _ all a hoax, after all -- between the candles, the incense, the pentagrams and blood sacrifices, there was no way any of this could be  _ real _ .

 

It was a comforting thought. It was also what led Robert to letting down his guard, which was, perhaps, the last thing Joseph's ritual needed in order to work.

 

And indeed, it  _ worked _ .

 

Robert wasn't sure what hit him. There was a rush of numbness, like his body had just been dunked in a vat of ice-cold water. He felt disconnected, almost like he'd slipped from consciousness into sleep -- only, he was still awake, somehow, albeit he was bleary and seemingly observing himself from the third-person. His body and limbs no longer felt like his own, moving seemingly outside of his own volition as his hands reached up to feel along his stubbled cheeks, down his neck, skipping over the cross to grope across his chest. He could feel everything, however, from the touch of his own foreign-feeling fingertips to the heat that seemed to bloom beneath them.

 

It was like being in a dream -- or a nightmare, more likely. Maybe it was.

 

"Oh, this is  _ nice _ ," Robert --  _ no _ , that was his voice, but not  _ him _ \-- said, his tone perceptibly changed to something higher and considerably more chipper. He could feel himself grinning toothily down at Joseph, and it felt strange,  _ foreign _ , like he was a passenger in his own skin. "I didn't think you'd invite me inside. Does this mean you're letting me have him?"

 

How quickly creatures became fools when offered the slightest bit of leeway. Joseph peered into that dark corner the entire time he chanted, tracking the movement of the shadows as they darted from the wall, across the ceiling, and right into Robert's body. Suddenly, the room was illuminated brightly again. The dog quietened, the chill faded, and Robert grinned in a way that was not only uncharacteristic, but off-putting as well. 

 

Joseph closed the Bible he'd been cradling in his arm, letting it  _ thud  _ to the floor with little ceremony. 

 

He could banish the ghost without much effort, now that Robert had it contained within the pentagram. Neither him nor the thing inside him would be able to leave until Joseph removed the blood-filled bowl, but Joseph had questions. He needed to know if his assumptions about Robert had been correct, and what better way to find out than from something that had  _ literally  _ taken over the man's body?

 

"I didn't think you'd be  _ that  _ stupid," he commented nonchalantly, rubbing his wrists where the fabric of his vestments rubbed the skin a pale pink. "You've been very careful these past few weeks, haven't you?" Just the thought of what it had been doing to Robert made his blood boil, eyes flashing vicious black and fangs bared in a snarl. "You know what's going to happen to you, so you might as well answer my questions. How honest you are will determine how painful your banishment will be." 

 

"Hmm," Robert -- or rather, the entity that now controlled his body -- looked exaggeratedly considering and not terribly concerned despite its current predicament. Indeed, it could not leave the makeshift demon trap for as long as Joseph kept the sigils and offering bowl in place, but that mattered very little in the grand scheme of things. It had what it wanted, after all, and with Joseph as its captive audience, it made a point to showcase this fact.

 

"I have been careful, yes. Mostly because I was  _ savoring _ this," it said in Robert's voice, hands continuing their slow slide downward until they caught on the hem of Robert's red sweater. It was rolled up slowly, revealing inch by inch, before the spirit's excitement appeared to get the better of it and the shirt was yanked off altogether. "There is just  _ so  _ much sexual desire bottled up in this one. It's been a real struggle to pace myself this past month." Robert -- the real Robert, bottled up somewhere inside his own head -- was beginning to feel as though his entire body was alight, heat and pleasure blossoming from every touch of his own callused hands against his bare chest and stomach. He wanted to groan, to dip his hands between his legs where his cock was beginning to throb to life, but he found he still had no control over his body and voice. Perhaps it ought to alarm him that he didn't care. But then, why should he when everything felt so  _ good? _

 

"I really should thank you for letting me have him," it purred, flashing Joseph a wicked, taunting smile as both of Robert's hands moved to his nipples, which hardened at the first pass of the coarse pads of his thumbs. "He will make a good vessel."

 

It took an obscene amount of self-control not to simply launch himself at the thing that was Robert, but Joseph managed it, if only just, digging his nails into his palms with a scowl while Robert's hands rand over his body and plucked at the hem of his shirt. In any other instance, on any other day, Joseph might be thrilled by this display. Hell, some part of him even liked it now, because Robert was a handsome man and because the memory of their last rendezvous was still very, very fresh in his mind. 

 

"That's it, then?" he asked after a beat of agitated silence, watching the way Robert's nipples responded to every teasing touch of his callused fingers. "You wanted him just because he hasn't gotten any in awhile?" Joseph might've felt smug about the fact that Robert hadn't gone and fucked anyone else over the course of the past month, were he not too busy trying to keep himself calm in the face of a poltergeist possessing the man, and honestly, it wasn't even  _ that  _ part. Joseph had suggested Rob act like a conduit. It was the fact that the thing inside him was having so much fucking  _ fun _ , like it didn't even know it would soon be dead, banished,  _ gone _ .

 

"There's got to be at least a dozen teenagers in the neighborhood who are in the same state as he is. Why not one of them?"

 

Robert could hear every word of the conversation, distant-sounding though it was; it felt like he was eavesdropping, like he was a fly on a wall even though he felt it was his own mouth moving and his own voice (strange and unfamiliar though it sounded) he heard answering Joseph's questions. None of it made very much sense to him. Though he was conscious, at least in a manner of speaking, he wasn't really processing what was going on. The heat pooling through his body and throbbing through his cock was far too distracting. Robert felt like a prisoner to it, completely overwhelmed by the teasing brushes of his own fingers but unable to move them with his own volition, to take the edge off rather than stoking the fire. He couldn't even  _ squirm _ , for fuck's sake, as his hands rubbed and pinched at his nipples, which had never been as sensitive as they were now -- certainly not to the point of making Robert's dick twitch and stiffen in his pants, at any rate.

 

"Oh, you _know_ it's more than that," Robert heard himself say; he sounded breathy and uncharacteristically delighted. Indeed, the entity was thrilled with its present audience, with the fact that Joseph was leering at him with eyes pitched black and a crackle of fury in the air around him. It meant he was well and truly captivated, distracted _,_ _unguarded_... "This one is special.  Not many mortals make such perfect conduits. That's what first drew you to him, isn't it? All this untapped... _potential..."_

 

Robert's hands roved down his chest again, starting to slowly work open the front of his jeans.

 

"And he's got such a nice body, too, doesn't he?" the spirit taunted, flashing Joseph another toothy grin as he continued divesting Robert of his pants. "Such a good cock on this one... Mm, I'm going to have to try his ass next, huh?"

 

Though Joseph wasn't about to admit it, that was exactly what had drawn him to Robert in the first place. There was something electric about him - something that had gripped Joseph right by the balls the first time they'd locked eyes across the street. Joseph wanted it, and he wasn't about to let some  _ spirit  _ take it away from him. 

 

It seemed as though the entity was doing everything in its power to get under his skin, to rile him up while he sought out his answers and idled on simply banishing the thing back to whatever hell it had come from. Joseph should've just finished it, instead of prolonging the amount of time the thing spent in Robert's body. He had assured Robert that he wouldn't let him get hurt, after all, and while the clear state of his arousal wasn't exactly painful, as far as Joseph could tell, it was still something done clearly without Robert's consent.

 

Still, it was a moment before he could will himself into action. Robert still looked  _ good _ , and if Joseph forgot for one moment that he wasn't in control of his own actions, he might've paused longer just to watch Rob strip himself with such deliberate slowness. 

 

While Robert could hear and certainly  _ feel _ everything that was happening to him -- everything that he was, unwillingly, being made to do -- his sense of sight was comparatively muddied. He could make out the blurred shape that was Joseph through the gloom that hung over his eyes, but it felt like he was only catching dream-like glimpses of him, hardly distinguishable amid the haze. Perhaps that was why he did not see the dagger move until it was already floating two feet above Joseph's turned back, blade pointed menacingly downward, and pommel slowly swaying back and forth as though suspended by an invisible rope. He might have thought he was hallucinating that, but everything  _ else _ felt very much the same way -- surreal, distant, dazed. Either the dagger was a dream, too, or it was  _ real. _

 

_ Shit. _

 

Robert tried for the first time to take control of his mouth and tongue, surged on by the sudden, sobering realization that he  _ needed _ to say something. It must have been his fearful desperation that displaced the gnawing, burning need coursing through his veins and shattered Robert's complacency, but somehow he succeeded. His jaw moved to his will, no longer controlled by something  _ else _ ; his voice no longer sounded foreign and strange, instead gravelly and breathless like he'd just run a marathon.

 

"Joseph,  _ look out _ \--" But it was too late. The dagger swung down in a vicious arc, burying itself in the meat of Joseph's left shoulder. At the same time, Robert felt his briefly-won control snatched away with such force that it felt as though the breath had been punched from his lungs. He -- or, rather, the  _ thing _ in possession of his body -- let out a gleeful cackle, moving to the edge of the salt circle as though to get a closer look of the knife now jutting out of Joseph.

 

"Ooh,  _ ouch.  _ Too late!"

 

Joseph didn't get the chance to react. 

 

He didn't get the chance to do much of anything before a sharp, lancing pain in his shoulder nearly had him pitching into the coffee table. He gasped, momentarily forgetting everything and reeling from the nausea that hit him the moment it started to sink in that he'd just been  _ stabbed _ . In fact, it was worse than just a simple, run-of-the-mill stabbing. Those were a dime a dozen, in Joseph's world. He'd been stabbed by other possessed humans, by claws and fangs and crude, makeshift weapons that barely glanced off his skin and left nothing in their wake but a twinge of mild discomfort.

 

This stabbing would probably result in a scar, if not worse, and the fact that the entity could even  _ lift  _ a sacred object (remote as the action may have been) would have had Joseph dumbfounded if he weren't currently preoccupied with clawing at his shoulder in a blind panic. It  _ burned _ , lighting him on fire from the inside out once the initial shock began to fade; Joseph finally got his claws around the handle, already slippery with his own blood, and gave it a hard tug to dislodge the blade, letting it clatter to the floor when the subsequent wash of pure agony had him stumbling to his knees, weak with bile crawling up his throat. 

 

He didn't know how much time passed - could've been seconds, could've been minutes - before he finally lifted his head up, skin a mottled, ashy grey around his jowls and a pair of wicked looking horns parting the tufts of his hair. In that moment he looked more beast than man, snarl curling his lips back to show off the glint of sharp fangs. 

 

That had been  _ quite  _ the mistake. 

 

Luckily for the entity, he wouldn't be around long enough to make another. Joseph bent down to snag the knife where he had abandoned it, chanting a steady stream of Latin in a deep, guttural voice that seemed to fill the whole room, dropping the temperature another handful of degrees and shorting out the bulb until it flickered above them. 

 

Robert wasn't able to speak, after that; the  _ thing _ that had taken over him would not allow it, would not even give him control of his lips and tongue for the couple of seconds it would take to ask Joseph if he was alright. Which, truthfully _ ,  _ wasn't all that hard to glean just by looking at him. He didn't  _ look _ alright. Blood soaked his left arm from the puncture wound down, especially with the knife no longer lodged inside. And, when Joseph crumpled to his knees, retching and gasping, Robert was sure he could see him change. It was a hallucination, no doubt.Those massive, pointed horns that curved back from his temples could not be real, neither could those black-as-sin eyes, nor the deadly-looking teeth that filled his panting mouth. They were all but glimpsed, anyway, and Robert vision was growing blurrier and more indistinct as he felt himself pushed into some lonely, impotent corner of his mind. The entity had retaken full control, and was using Robert's voice to sneer and gloat at Joseph while he barely held himself from collapsing onto the carpet. Robert wished he could help. Better yet, he hoped this really was some kind of fever dream.

 

Time past, slow and agonizing. It felt like hours when it had surely only been minutes, but either way Robert felt a mix of shock and intense relief when Joseph stumbled back to his feet. It was the shock, ultimately, that took hold; no sooner had Joseph stood than he began to chant, his voice eerily booming in the small room, and the air growing chilled against Robert's flushed skin. The spirit stopped laughing, and Robert was sure the shiver that ran through him had nothing to do with the cold.

 

The light flickered off, and then on again. Robert felt himself snarling in a way he had never done, before, the sound more animalistic than it was human. He could not tell if the terror he felt right then was his own.

 

_ "Enough _ ," he hissed, and there was no warning Joseph this time when a literal swarm of DVD cases, books, and other spare junk scattered about Robert's living room began to fly at his head. Robert was just thankful it didn't seem to know about his knife collection.

 

Wait.  _ Shit. _

 

Robert felt the knife holstered to his right inner calf slide free from his pants, along with the switchblade tucked into his back pocket. Both blades flipped loose with audible  _ clicks _ before flinging like darts from an unseen hand directly at Joseph's chest.

 

This time, Joseph had at least enough wherewithal to throw his arm out in front of himself when the knives made their appearance, pulled from the mess of straps and holsters Robert apparently slept in. They stung where they lodged into his arm, slotting neatly between the bone, but weren't nearly enough to cause a distraction. There was no burn - no painful, aching fire that tried to eat him from the inside out - merely a little blood that oozed into the fabric of his sleeve, turning the black blacker and leaving him with a ruined robe. 

 

Even the paraphernalia raining down around him wasn't enough to break his concentration. 

 

Joseph ignored it and continued chanting, bringing the ceremonial knife up as though to strike Robert in the circle. The incantation came to its climax, booming through the house loud enough to leave even Joseph's ears ringing; the knife came up, hissing viciously through the air. It passed right through Robert, between his ribs, his heart, his throat - leaving nothing but an icy sensation behind - and dragged the entity out as though it had been hooked by claws and pulled from Robert's body. 

 

Robert was left teetering, not quite in control of his own body but slowly regaining the use of his extremities, but before he could make a move, Joseph was shoving him backwards off the table. He snatched the offering bowl and emptied the contents with a quick swipe of his sleeve (it was ruined, anyway, so what was a little more blood) and left Robert to fall onto the couch. 

 

Hopefully, if all worked how it was supposed to, the ghost would be left behind. And in fact, if Joseph squinted a little, he could just make out the shimmer of a figure in the circle, its movements too quick to make out as it scrambled at the invisible barrier. 

 

Joseph took a deep breath before tending to himself. The thing could wait a few minutes while he pulled Robert's knives from his arm; moreover, Joseph needed to think of an appropriate  _ punishment _ for everything their unruly poltergeist had put them through.

 

Robert always had wondered what it might feel like to be stabbed in the heart. He'd never experienced it, of course -- though he had been stabbed once before in the leg, and just that had  _ sucked _ . In comparison, a jab to something as vulnerable as the chest ought to hurt like hell. So, it came as quite the shock when Robert found it felt less painful so much as... cold? 

 

He hadn't really had much time to process it, to be honest. The world was teetering and dream-like, and between the cacophony of crashes as his living room was thrown and smashed about, and the booming, hypnotic drone of Joseph's chants, Robert felt very much like he had slipped into an alternate plane of existence. He still felt the rush of heat pooling through his body, but it was superseded by agrip of panic that had his heart pounding in his throat. That panic rose when he saw, through the blurry gloom, Joseph's ceremonial dagger pointed toward him. For a moment, he was sure it would be the last thing he ever saw, that somehow this exorcism entailed  _ murder _ , that he was about to be stabbed to death in some occult ritual right in the middle of his destroyed living room.

 

Instead, Robert felt once again as though the breath had been punched from him. Where the blade stabbed through him, he could feel only an icy chill, one that left his skin crawling and his stomach heaving as though he was about to be sick. Every inch of him tingled as though his entire body had fallen asleep and was only just regaining sensation -- with it, Robert felt a sudden, heavy weakness, one that had his jelly-like legs collapsing beneath his body's weight.

 

But before he could fall onto the table, Robert found himself shoved back with more strength than a man of Joseph's size ought to possess. He collapsed onto the sofa, instead, head spinning and body still tingling as the rush of cold slowly dissipated, leaving in its wake that same feverish flush that had so debilitated him before. It was better now, at least, because Robert had control of his faculties again. He could grope at his chest out of his own volition, this time -- which he did, if only to feel for a knife wound.

 

_ Nothing _ . Had he imagined it? 

 

With a groan, Robert maneuvered his aching, heavy, still too-hot body until he was seated upright. His vision was clearer, now, but he still didn't feel all-there, and despite that he should be feeling  _ terror _ above anything else, Robert couldn't get his mind off the insistent throb of his cock. 

 

" _ Fuck _ , Jo'--" he sounded like hell, like he'd just woken up from a week-long bender. Groggily, Robert tried to orient himself toward Joseph, who was only faintly silhouetted in the dim room. The lightbulb had burnt out at some point, it seemed, and Robert could barely see a thing with only a couple candles left burning. "Are you--... You alright?"

 

He'd be fine. Already, the stab wounds in his arm were closing up. The bleeding had stopped in his shoulder, as well, and while it still twinged every time he moved, it was at least tolerable enough. 

 

In the aftermath, they were left with one captured ghost, a chalk-dusted table, and a mess of a living room, though as soon as Robert spoke, his voice sounding raw and hesitant, all of Joseph's attention snapped to him. He stepped around the table, careful not to knock into it, and was upon Rob in moments, claws first on his chest and then rubbing down his bare thighs as though to check for nonexistent injuries. 

 

"I'm fine. Are  _ you _ -" his fingers brushed the tented front of Rob's boxers, feeling the heat of his dick through the damp fabric. Joseph cupped it in his palm and squeezed, propelled to act by that same possessive curl of  _ want _ that had distracted him before, when the ghost had full control of Robert's faculties. 

 

"You okay?" he finished asking, ducking his chin to slot his mouth over Robert's shoulder. The gravel in his voice hadn't faded, but his skin was no longer like ash, and the horns that may or may not have been there before were no longer curving from his forehead. Joseph looked - mostly - like himself. "I'm sorry I asked you to do that." The apology was muffled and Joseph didn't stop  _ touching _ , as though compelled by an unknown force to make sure any claim the entity now watching them was effectively rubbed away, but he sounded sincere and kissed Rob like he meant it, too - sweet at first and then with teeth. 

 

"Fuck, baby, you did so  _ good _ ." For a first exorcism, at any rate. No one had died and that already was a rousing success. 

 

Enough to celebrate, at least, and Joseph wasted no time in divesting Robert of his boxers so that he could continue touching him - could cup his sensitive balls and rub his thumb along the base of his dick. 

 

It had to have been the lingering effects of  _ whatever _ had just been inside him, because there was no other rational reason for why Robert was still sporting a raging hard-on. He should be panicked, he should be tending to the wounds he'd seen (or at least  _ thought _ he'd seen) inflicted on Joseph's arms and shoulder. Considering that he'd gotten off no longer than a couple hours ago, Robert shouldn't be feeling so flushed and desperate. He wanted -- no,  _ needed _ \-- to cum, and every second that ticked by untouched and unsatisfied felt like an agonizing eternity.

 

No wonder Joseph's hands felt so good when they descended upon him. Against his better judgement, Robert arched up into the touches with a grunt that soon turned into a groan when those same hands tugged away his boxers and began fondling his cock and balls. The pleasure was staggering, so much so that he forgot where he was for a moment. Nothing mattered but those hands, that mouth, those sweet, honeyed words that sent a throb of heat through Robert's dick and had him practically melting against the couch cushions.

 

" _ Fuck _ ," he hissed, cracking his eyes open to peer blearily up at Joseph. Even in his feverish daze, Robert couldn't help but notice the dark stains of blood across Joseph's cassock. Right. "Wait-- Hey. You're bleeding, we gotta--" Robert grabbed at Joseph's blood-soaked sleeve, but couldn't bring himself to pull Joseph's hand away as he continued with his indulgent groping. Unable to compose himself, Robert squeezed his eyes shut again and whimpered. " _ Shit _ . We gotta patch you up, first."

 

Robert reacted so beautifully - arching into all of Joseph's touches and showing off for the entity without even realizing what it was that he was doing - that Joseph couldn't help but be caught in the moment as well, dragging his palm over the flushed length of Rob's dick and collecting smears of pre on his skin. He was  _ eager _ , desperate, and would have been content to finish Robert just like this (maybe catch his spend on the fabric of his ruined cassock, since he'd have to replace the damn thing anyway) when Robert stopped him, still flushed and needy but gripping at his arm as though to push him away. 

 

Joseph paused, glancing down at his arm with a considering hum. 

 

"Just a scratch,  _ darling _ . Here; I'll show you." There was too much blood to have simply been a scratch, and surely Robert would have seen just how deep the knives had sunk into Joseph's body, but with his feverish state and the way his hips moved the moment that Joseph made to ease his hand away, Joseph didn't think he'd remember it too well. It wasn't anything a little bit of outside influence couldn't fix, anyway. 

 

He shrugged out of his cassock, standing to pull it over his head, then peeled away the top underneath, unbuttoning it from the collar down and letting it fall behind him to show off the mostly-healed skin of his forearm and what little was left of the cut on his shoulder. 

 

"I'm fine, Rob." Fine enough to put his hands back on Robert's dick and distract him with a squeeze, and fine enough to slot his mouth along the tendons of Rob's throat, sucking wetly until Rob's breaths turned to hiccups and he forgot whatever he was planning to say next.

 

Knife wounds sure as hell didn't qualify as mere  _ scratches _ , but any protests Robert might have had died quickly on his tongue when he caught sight of Joseph's bare upper body. There was still a stain of blood smearing his pale, creamy skin, but the marks on his arms looked no worse than cat scratches, and his shoulder bore little more than a puckered scab. Given that there was no way in  _ hell _ Joseph had healed that quickly, Robert was at a loss. Had he imagined all of it? Joseph had been attacked by the spirit, sure, but maybe Robert had hallucinated it all as being much worse than it really was.

 

Which begged the question: How much of what he thought he'd seen was real? It was disturbing not knowing where the distinction between reality and hallucination lay, but more disturbing was the fact that, right now, Robert didn't  _ care _ . He was lust-drunk, every point of contact between him and Joseph so intensely  _ good _ that Robert forgot about the missing knife wounds as quickly as the thought had first occurred to him. He couldn't remember ever feeling this desperately horny before, and when Joseph squeezed at his cock and greedily sucked at his throat, the rush of heat and pleasure was so strong that Robert nearly came right then. He held off only thanks to the hand gripped tightly around the base of his dick -- foresight on Joseph's part, perhaps -- and Robert might have been grateful if he didn't already feel like he was burning up. _ Fuck _ , he needed to cum. He needed Joseph to jerk him off, to sink his teeth into his neck, to roughly shove a few fingers inside his ass -- he'd take  _ anything _ , honestly, if it meant soothing the insistent throb low in his gut.

 

No wonder Robert soon lost the ability to speak. He was left gasping and moaning nonsense in a matter of instants, unable to communicate his desire beyond the needy jerks of his hips and the way he clawed at Joseph's bared back, pulling him down and close.

 

Whatever the entity had done, it had left Robert a squirming, incoherent mess, his breathing ragged and his chest flushed dark under Joseph's teeth. Joseph bit him again, scraping his teeth down one pec in order to close his mouth around the hard peak of a nipple. It twitched against his tongue, straining and sensitive in response to each of Joseph's eager nibbles; had this been any other time, Joseph might've tried to draw it out indefinitely, might've sucked and bit at Rob's chest until Rob simply couldn't take it anymore and demanded more. Robert was already there, though, worked up to a feverish arousal that had him nearly coming from little more than a bit of attention. 

 

Honestly, Joseph wasn't feeling a whole lot more put together, either. His dick throbbed between his legs, pressing insistently against the zip of his trousers and leaving wet stains of pre against the inside of his boxers. He felt like he'd been affected by the same thing that had Robert in its' clutches, though it was just as likely that the combination of adrenaline and his stinging wounds was to blame (not to mention, of course, the surge of possessive need that had been steadily growing since the first moment that  _ entity  _ had gripped Robert in his own hands).

 

Joseph wasted little more time, letting Rob go only long enough to pull his own trousers down past the curve of his ass. It was enough for his dick to spring free, enough for him to crowd Robert against the arm of the couch and shove two fingers roughly in his hole, still a little slick from before. The lube was in the other room though and Joseph was painfully inpatient, and while spit wasn't the alternative he should be using, it was all he had on short notice. He pulled his fingers out of Rob and popped them briefly in his own mouth, getting the digits slick enough to press them back inside Rob with less resistance. He pistoned them back and forth a few times for good measure, then gave up the ghost on being  _ polite _ , shoving his knees against Rob's thighs to keep him spread for the press of his dick. 

 

Seeing as how they had fucked just a couple hours ago, Robert wasn't exactly in need of thorough prep. His ass was still stretched loose and slick with a mixture of lube and Joseph's cum (in retrospect, Robert probably should have asked before letting him go in raw), and besides that, it wasn't like he ever complained when Joseph got rough. That was how he liked to fuck -- how Robert, in turn, liked to  _ be  _ fucked -- especially when he was hot all over and aching for something quick and dirty. 

 

So, when Joseph shoved two spit-slick fingers into Robert's ass for a few cursory pumps before pulling out again, Robert was only too eager to take his dick, instead. He did, however, make a point of squirming against Joseph's knees and then abruptly flipping onto his stomach, for the sole reason that it meant he could brace himself on the armrest of the sofa and push his ass up into the air. It was an enticing offer to be sure, especially when Robert reached back to spread one cheek and give Joseph a teasing peek of his hole.

 

"Fuck me," he said in a breathy growl, as if the way he was  _ presenting _ himself wasn't a clear enough demand of what Robert wanted.

 

Robert presented himself like an eager whore, showing off the flutter of his still-puffy hole and growling at Joseph from over his shoulder. It was a hell of a sight, one that Joseph took in with the utmost glee - gaze briefly flicking to the entity still trapped within the chalk circle on the table. He hoped it got a good view when he finally parted Robert's cheeks, when he dragged the length of his dick once over his hole before pressing just the tip - thin and uncharacteristically wriggly - into Robert's body. 

 

The rest wasn't far behind, growing thicker towards the base until Joseph was fully seated, hunched over Robert's back with claws digging into his hips. " _ Fuck -  _ Rob. Fucked you good last time, didn't I?" herumbled, thumbs spreading the meat of Robert's thighs. He was still loose and sloppy, wet from a combination of cum and lube he hadn't bothered to clean out of himself after they'd both collapsed on the bed. 

 

Joseph drank it all in for a few hot, suspended seconds, waiting until Robert just started to squirm before he rocked back and then snapped his hips forward hard enough to make a satisfying, wet  _ smack _ . 

 

If Joseph's dick felt a little  _ different _ when it finally bottomed out, Robert didn't notice. Even if he had, it wasn't like he'd have cared; all that mattered was that Joseph was fucking him, that he was scratching that itch deep inside that had been threatening to drive Robert insane. So long as he was fucked good and hard, Robert was content to bend over and take just about whatever Joseph wanted to give him.

 

Joseph's dick, of course, was something of a strong preference. It stretched him out real nice, thick enough at the base that it felt like he was plugging Robert up every time Joseph slammed in balls-deep. Heset a rough, frantic pace -- just how Robert liked it -- and between that and the nails digging into his hip and the hand reaching up to yank at his hair, Robert was sure he wasn't going to last long. 

 

" _ Yeah _ ," he rasped, wanting nothing more than to bury his face against the arm of the sofa, but with Joseph's hand in his hair Robert had no choice but to tilt his chin back and peer at him through glazed, unfocused eyes. Yet despite his feverish state, Robert still managed to flash Joseph a smug little sneer. "Think there's some room to improve, though."

 

"There's  _ always  _ room for improvement." Every moment was a teachable one, according to _ Cool Youth Pastor _ Joseph Christiansen. Even  _ this _ ; with the entity still watching them, seething and pounding against the invisible walls of its closure, Joseph pulled out of Robert entirely, until just the tip of his dick remained pressed past the tight ring of his sphincter. It twitched, writhing against Rob's hole as though to bury back in the heat of his body, and Joseph - feeling smug and a little cruel - left it there to strain and tease while he spread Robert's ass wide enough to watch. 

 

"Christ, darling. Look at  _ that _ ," he rumbled, glancing towards the table with a wide, fanged grin. "Prettiest thing I've ever seen, Rob." The DVD shelves rustled threateningly, but ultimately, the creature's power was all but snuffed out so long as it stayed in the circle. It could do nothing but watch Joseph sink his dick back inside Rob, feeding him inch by slow inch until he was fully seated again. His dick drooled thick globs of pre, and once buried back in the heat of Robert's body began to split, breaking into three, separate pieces at the tip. They filled Robert up, spread him wide and rubbed against the sensitive nub of his prostate each time Joseph twitched his hips even slightly. 

 

He groaned when Robert clenched, thumb pressing against the rim of Rob's hole just to trace where it strained around his dick, pink and thin and undoubtedly sensitive. 

 

Joseph was a  _ damn good _ fuck, and Robert was sure he didn't just think that because he had gone a month feeling sex-starved and lonely. No, Joseph really was just good _ ; _ it felt as though his dick had some kind of prostate-homing ability, because he never failed to find just the right angle to drive Robert wild. It was like nothing he'd ever experienced before. Usually getting fucked was more a warm-up than a finisher for him, but with Joseph pounding into his ass, Robert barely even had to touch himself before he felt he was barreling toward orgasm, his dick twitching and leaking between his thighs with every  _ slap _ of Joseph's hips against his.

 

When Joseph briefly stopped, it was something of a reprieve, a moment for Robert to catch his breath and snake a hand between his thighs to squeeze his dick before he came right then and there. It didn't last long, of course; soon enough, Joseph was back to fucking him with a vengeance, and while Robert's vise grip around the base of his cock staved the pleasure at first, Joseph seemed intent on making him come. It felt like his dick was pulsing, growing thicker inside Robert's ass and shaping itself so that it pounded directly into his prostate. The way it felt like it moved -- writhing, curling like fingers might but how a dick most certainly could  _ not _ \-- might have given Robert pause if he wasn't so lost to the ecstasy of it. He was willing to accept that he was probably hallucinating half of this, just as he had imagined Joseph being stabbed. The spirit had messed with his head, had left him burning from the inside out such that only a good, hard fucking could douse the flames. That's certainly how it felt, anyway, so Robert wasn't about to question how weird Joseph's dick felt -- not when it also felt really fucking  _ good _ .

 

" _ Shit _ ," he gasped, giving up trying to squeeze his cock into submission and opting instead to frantically jerk himself off. It didn't take much, not with the pressure on his prostate making his blood sing and his head spin. Mouth agape, eyes screwing shut, Robert came after only a few quick strokes, groaning something that sounded a whole hell of a lot like Joseph's name -- garbled and wheezed though it was.

 

Joseph would take it as a victory, even if the way it came out sounded rough and not anything like his name. It was enough, was the thing. Enough for Joseph to feel smug, to show off when Rob finally flew over the edge and was left groaning and pliant against the side of the couch. 

 

Joseph took his hips in both hands anew and wasn't too far behind, fucking into Rob's loose hole rough and greedy until he too was coming. He buried himself as far as he could go - as far as his dick could stretch - and grunted as he came, dropping his forehead between Robert's shoulderblades while coating his insides with another load of spunk. He stayed that way for a long moment after, breathing hard and, when his dick was finally spent, easing out of Robert's well-used hole, another hickey worked into his shoulder like a claim. 

 

Shit, that was good. The sight that Robert made was even better, though. He was still spread across the couch, a little dribble of cum oozing from his well-used, puffy hole, and Joseph was tempted - sorely - to push a finger back inside him, to keep him nice and loose like either of them were able to go a second ( _ third _ , in fact) round so soon. He didn't, but he dragged one claw through the mess he'd left behind, collecting his own cum and then, attention turned back on the entity inside the circle, licking it off, long tongue wrapped around his finger like he cared about getting every drop.

 

It was a damn good thing that Joseph didn't last much longer; Robert didn't think he could handle having his dick continually pounding against his oversensitive prostate once he'd spent himself into his fist. Heknew Joseph wouldn't have let up, that he would have kept fucking Robert until he was a raw, sobbing mess against the cushions, that he probably would have gotten off on seeing Robert try to writhe away when it got to be too much. Instead,  _ thank God _ , Joseph managed only to fuck into him a couple dozen times more before he was coming with a heady moan that had Robert's spent dick giving a feeble little twitch. Joseph sounded fucking good when he moaned and talked dirty, and though he wasn't about to admit it, Robert  _ really  _ liked the sound of his voice. It did things to him when pitched low and breathy, and like the devil on his shoulder Robert was sure that Joseph could have whispered a great many filthy suggestions into his ear and he would have done them all without question.

 

But who could blame Robert, really? He was a weak man, and Joseph was the best fuck he'd had in years _ ,  _ possibly  _ ever _ . 

 

He let out a quiet grunt as Joseph pulled out of his ass, leaving him feeling entirely too-empty even with what felt like an exaggerated amount of cum drooling out of his gaping pucker. Joseph always so shameless about leaving him a mess, despite that he was conscientiously neat in every other aspect of his life. Robert was glad for that, languishing in his dazed, flushed state as wetness dribbled down the cleft of his ass and behind his balls and dripped down to leave a stain on the couch. He liked feeling fucked-out and filthy. He liked that Joseph seemed to have picked up on this, that he gave Robert what he wanted without ever having been asked.

 

It was good enough that Robert forgot about the exorcism that may or may not have still been underway. He was no longer feeling black-out needy for a fucking, but the post-orgasm dazed giddiness was enough to leave him splayed out on the sofa, ass still up and face still buried against the armrest.

 

"Mmfckasgud," he mumbled into his arms, which loosely translated to  _ 'fuck, that was good _ '. Robert figured that Joseph would get the gist of what he'd said. And, of course, with his face hidden, he remained oblivious to the specter still seething within its salt-circle confines on the coffee table.

 

Robert looked  _ good _ . The kind of good that had Joseph tempted to press two fingers back into the slickness of his hole, to stretch him out a little more or play with his ass until he was a sobbing, oversensitive mess. 

 

But duty called and as much as Joseph appreciated the audience, they had overstayed their welcome, and with Robert lounging sated on the couch, it was just a matter of banishing the ghost -  _ painfully  _ \- from the human realm. Joseph fished his pocket Bible from the remnants of his vestments, and flipped through to the right page, murmuring a little prayer to  _ really  _ drive home the point before, still half-naked and looking like he'd just gotten his brains screwed out, he launched into a lengthy incantation, voice rising in volume and echoing oddly through the room. 

 

When he was done - when the lights had finished their flickering and the chill in the room dissipated - it didn't seem like too much had changed, but if he squinted just right and tilted his head to the left, he could tell: the entity was gone, replaced instead by the faintest of scorch marks on the wood finish. 

 

Not too bad, all told. 

 

Robert still seemed perfectly content to laze over the couch, and Joseph was loath to pull him from his comfortable lethargy, so he took the time to tidy up, cleaning the table of all traces from the exorcism and packing away the box of tools he'd brought with him. The ruined robe he threw on top, along with his torn and bloodied shirt wrapped up on itself. 

 

Then, he turned to Robert, shaking him gently just to make sure he was still awake. "Might want to move to a real bed, darling. How are you feeling?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone curious:
> 
> Fresh wrote for Joseph  
> Tea wrote for Robert

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone curious:
> 
> Fresh wrote for Joseph  
> Tea wrote for Robert


End file.
